e I dislike more
than Smith it is Augustus. I have been thinking of a very nice name for
you. It is Asticot. It expresses you better than Augustus Smith."

"It is a very good name, Sir," said I politely.

I learned soon after that it is a French word meaning the little grey
worms which fishermen call "gentles," and that it was not such a
complimentary appellation as I had imagined; but Asticot I became, and
Asticot I remained for many a year.

"Wash up the things, my little Asticot," said he, "and afterwards we
will discuss future arrangements."

According to his directions I took the tray down to a kind of scullery
on the floor below. The wet plates and cups I dried on a greasy rag
which I found lying on the sink; and this seemed to me a refinement of
luxurious living; for at home, when we did wash plates, we merely held
them under the tap till the remains of food ran off, and we never
thought of drying them. When I returned to the bedroom Paragot was
dressed for the day. His long lean wrists and hands protruded far
through the sleeves of an old brown jacket. He wore a grey flannel shirt
and an old bit of black ribbon done up in a bow by way of a tie; his
slouch hat, once black, was now green with age, and his boots were
innocent of blacking. But my eyes were dazzled by a heavy gold watch
chain across his waistcoat and I thought him the most glorious of
betailored beings.

"My little Asticot," said he, "would you like to forsake your gentle
mother's wash-tub and your dreams of a fried-fish shop and enter my
service? I, the heir of all the ages, am driven by Destiny to running
The Lotus Club downstairs. We call it 'Lotus' because we eat tripe to
banish memory. The members meet together in order to eat tripe, drink
beer and hear me talk. You can eat tripe and hear me talk too, and that
will improve both your mind and your body. While Cherubino, the waiter,
teaches you how to be a scullion, I will instruct you in philosophy. The
sofa in the Club will make an excellent bed for you, and your wages will
be eighteen pence a week."

He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets, and rattling his money
looked at me with an enquiring air. I returned his gaze for a while,
lost in a delirious wonder. I tried to speak. Something stuck in my
throat. I broke into a blubber and dried my eyes with my knuckles.

It was an intoxicated little Asticot that trotted by his side to my
mother's residence. There over gin-and-water the barg