ere I
should turn to my home, but here Lancelot would needs have it that we
should go and visit Mr. Davies's shop in the High Street. I must say
that this resolve somewhat smote my conscience, for it was many a long
day since I had crossed Mr. Davies's threshold; but I would not say
Lancelot nay, and so we went our ways to the High Street and Mr.
Davies's shop. And indeed I am glad we did so.

CHAPTER XII

MR. DAVIES'S GIFTS

Mr. Davies did not seem at all surprised to see us when we entered, and
he turned round and faced us.

The poor little man had lived so long among his musty books that the
real world had become as it were a kind of dream to him, wherein people
came like shadows and people went like shadows, and where still the
battered battalions of his books abided with him.

But he seemed very well pleased to see us, and shook us both warmly by
the hands and called us by our right names, without confounding either
of us with the other, and had us into his little back parlour and
pressed strong waters upon us, all very hospitably.

Of the strong waters Lancelot and I would have none, for in those days I
never touched them, nor did Lancelot. I never drank aught headier than
ale in the time when I used to frequent the Skull and Spectacles, and
as for Lancelot, who was a gentleman born and used to French wines, he
had no relish for more ardent liquors. Then he begged we would have a
dish of tea, of which he had been given a little present, he said, of
late; and as it would have cut him to the heart if we had refused all
his proffers, we sat while he bustled about at his brew, and then we all
sipped the hot stuff out of porcelain cups and chatted away as if the
world had grown younger.

Mr. Davies was full of curiosity about our departure and the Captain's
purpose, and did not weary of putting questions to us, or rather to
Lancelot, for he soon found that I knew but little of our business
beyond the name of the ship. To be sure, I do not think that Lancelot
really knew much more about it than I did, but he could talk as I never
could talk, and he made it all seem mighty grand and venturesome and
heroic to the little bookseller.

When we rose Mr. Davies rose with us and followed us into the shop, when
he insisted that each of us should have a book for a keepsake. He groped
along his shelves, and after a little while turned to us with a couple
of volumes under his arm.

Mr. Davies addressed Lancelot