big enough to eat him,
but I believe that they are engaged. Perseverance has done it in his
case. He used to go about like a blighted flower--"

"I am rather busy," his partner reminded him.

Mr. Swann sighed and resumed his own labours. For some time both men
wrote in silence. Then the elder suddenly put his pen down and hit his
desk a noisy thump with his fist.

"I've got it," he said, briskly; "apologize humbly for all your candour,
and I will give you a piece of information which shall brighten your dull
eyes, raise the corners of your drooping mouth, and renew once more the
pink and cream in your youthful cheeks."

"Look here--" said the overwrought Hardy.

"Samson Wilks," interrupted Mr. Swann, "number three, Fullalove Alley,
at home Fridays, seven to nine, to the daughter of his late skipper, who
always visits him on that day. Don't thank me, Hardy, in case you break
down. She's a very nice girl, and if she had been born twenty years
earlier, or I had been born twenty years later, or you hadn't been born
at all, there's no saying what might not have happened."

"When I want you to interfere in my business," said Hardy, working
sedulously, "I'll let you know."

"Very good," replied Swann; "still, remember Thursdays, seven to nine."

"Thursdays," said Hardy, incautiously; "why, you said Fridays just now."

Mr. Swann made no reply. His nose was immersed in the folds of a large
handkerchief, and his eyes watered profusely behind his glasses. It was
some minutes before he had regained his normal composure, and even then
the sensitive nerves of his partner were offended by an occasional
belated chuckle.

Although by dint of casual and cautious inquiries Mr. Hardy found that
his partner's information was correct, he was by no means guilty of any
feelings of gratitude towards him; and he only glared scornfully when
that excellent but frivolous man mounted a chair on Friday afternoon, and
putting the clock on a couple of hours or so, urged him to be in time.

The evening, however, found him starting slowly in the direction of
Fullalove Alley. His father had gone to sea again, and the house was
very dull; moreover, he felt a mild curiosity to see the changes wrought
by time in Mr. Wilks. He walked along by the sea, and as the church
clock struck the three-quarters turned into the alley and looked eagerly
round for the old steward.

The labours of the day were over, and the inhabitants were for the m