.

Jack Henderson was not invited to breakfast, and after his early walk he
was very hungry. He was just turning out of the square, towards the
river, when he heard footsteps behind him.

Presently a hand was laid on his arm, and a voice said,--

'I was vastly uncivil half an hour ago, Henderson, but when one is
treated like a cur one is apt to snarl like one. Where are you going to
break your fast? At your uncle's--eh?'

'No,' Jack said,' I leave well alone there. I am not in high favour, and
don't go near him till next Monday, when I hope to bring Miss Palmer
along with me.'

'Your sweetheart--eh?'

Jack blushed to the roots of his hair.

'I can't joke about _her_,' he said.

'I crave pardon,' was the answer. 'Don't be sulky, Jack. I snatch a roll
and a draught of water somewhere at a shop near by. Come with me and
share the frugal repast.'

Then the two young men turned into the road by the river, where the
early frequenters of the Spa were returning from drinking the waters in
sedan chairs or wrapped up in fur. A band was playing before the door of
the pump-room, and the whole scene was at once festive and melancholy.

The bun shop was not a dozen yards from the pump-room, and when Jack and
his companion turned in to satisfy their hunger several gaily dressed
beaux and young gentlewomen, probably relatives of the sick people who
were drinking the waters, were laughing and chatting as if there was no
such thing as death or sickness or sorrow in the world.

The group formed a sharp contrast indeed to the patients leaning on the
arms of their attendants, who came forth in melancholy procession from
the baths, coughing continuously, and with faces where consumption had
too plainly left its mark. On some the bright hectic burned, on others
the pallor of the last stages of that fell disease was seen.

Thomas Chatterton seemed wholly unconscious of what was passing before
him. He threw down his penny for a roll, and drank a glass of water, and
then stalked out of the shop, while Jack demolished a pork pie and two
rolls, asking for a mug of cider to complete his breakfast. Having
settled his account with the smart young woman behind the counter, he
hastened to rejoin Chatterton.

He had walked away in the direction of St Vincent's Rocks, and Jack,
with his long strides, soon overtook him.

'I am ready now,' he said; 'shall I walk back with you as far as Corn
Street?'

But Chatterton did not answer. He sto