h his
family that he hurried off to the dogs--and a goodly sized menagerie
besides, if the records of the inebriate's asylum are to be credited.
His wife, after enduring him for sixteen years, secured a divorce. It
may not have been intended as an insult to the scapegoat, but no sooner
had she freed herself from him than his father, Sir Somebody-or-other,
took her and her young daughter into the ancestral halls and gave them a
much-needed abiding-place. This left poor Mr. Jack quite completely out
in the world--and he proceeded to make the best and the worst of it
while he had the strength and ambition. Accepting the world as his home,
he ventured forth to visit every nook and cranny of it. In course of
time he came upon his old-time neighbour and boyhood friend, Taswell
Skaggs, in the city of Shanghai. Neither of them had seen the British
Isles in two years or more.

"'Ow do you know?" demanded Taswell.

"Haven't I been there, old chap? A year or more? It's a rotten big place
where gentlemen aspire to sell gloves and handkerchiefs and needlework
over the shop counters. At any rate, that's what every one said every
one else was doing, and advised me to--to get a situation doing the
same. You know, Tazzy, I couldn't well afford to starve and I _wouldn't_
sell things, so I came away. But it's no island."

"Well, that's neither here nor there, Jackie. I 'aven't a 'ome and you
'aven't a 'ome, and we're wanderers on the face of the earth. My wife
played me a beastly trick, dying like that. I say marriage is a blooming
nuisance."

"Marriage, my boy, is the convalescence from a love affair. One wants to
get out the worst way but has to stay in till he's jolly well cured. For
my part, I'm never going back to England."

"Nor I. It would be just like me, Jackie, to 'ave a relapse and never
get out again."

The old friends, with tear-dimmed eyes, shook hands and vowed that
nothing short of death should part them during the remainder of their
journey through life. That night they took an inventory. Jack Wyckholme,
gentleman's son and ne'er-do-well, possessed nine pounds and a fraction,
an appetite and excellent spirits, while Taswell Skaggs exhibited a
balance of one thousand pounds in a Shanghai bank, a fairly successful
trade in Celestial necessities, and an unbounded eagerness to change his
luck.

"I have a proposition to make to you, Tazzy," said Mr. Wyckholme, late
in the night.

"I think I'll listen to it, Jackie,"