6
1/2 STORY gvj
»THEe
ESCAPADE
A POST
MARITAL ROMANCE
Cyrus Townsend Brady 9
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
RAY WALTERS
(Copy n* lit, ltfos, l>y W. u OiApuiaa.)
SYNOPSIS.
The Escapade opens, not In the ro
mance preceding the marriage of Ellen
•Slocum, a Puritan miss, and Lord Car
rington of England, but in their life after
settling in England. The scene is placed,
just following the revolution, in Carring
ton castle in England. The Carringtons,
after a house party, engaged In a family
tilt, caused by jealousy. The attentions
of Lord Carrington to Lady Cecily and
Lord Strathgate to Lady Carrington com
pelled the latter to vow that she would
leave tlie castle. Preparing to tlee, Lady
Carrington and her chum Deborah, an
American girl, met Lord Strathgate at
two a. m., he agreeing to see them safely
away. He attempted to take her to his
castle, hut she left him stunned in the
road when the carriage met with an ac
cident. She and Debbie then struck out
for Portsmouth, where she intended to
sail for America. Hearing news of
Ellen's flight, Lords Carrington and Seton
set out in pursuit. Seton rented a fast
vessel and started in pursuit. Strathgate,
bleeding from fall, dashed onto Ports
mouth, for which Carrington, Ellen and
Seton were also headed by different
routes. Strathgate arrived in Portsmouth
In advance of the others, finding that
Ellen's ship had sailed before her.
Strathgate and Carrington each hired a
small yacht to pursue the wrong vessel,
upon which each supposed Ellen had
sailed. Seton overtook the fugitives near
Portsmouth, but his craft ran aground,
just as capture was imminent. Ellen won
the chase by boarding American vessel
and foiling her pursuers. Carrington and
Strathgate, thrown together by former's
wrecking of iatter's vessel, engaged in an
Impromptu duel, neither being hurt. A
war vessel, commanded by an admiral
friend of Seton, then started out in pur
suit of the women fugitives. Seton con
fessing love for Debbie. Flagship Britan
nia overtook the fugitives during the
night. The two women escaped by again
taking to the sea in a small boat.
Carrington is ordered to sea with his ship
but refuses togo until after meeting
Strathgate In a duel. Thev light In the
grounds of Lord Blythedale's castle.
CHAPTER XVlll.—Continued.
His thoughts plunged him into a
gloomy melancholy which Parktnan, at
length perceiving, did his best to dis
pel by gentle raillery and pleasant
conversation. Carrington pulled him
self together, realizing that if he gave
way to his depression he would be in
no condition to meet Strathgate.
These gentle thoughts of his wife
did not in any way abate his enmity
toward the man whom he felt had so
wronged and insulted him. He was
as determined as ever that the ap
proaching duel should be no slight af
fair, but that if he could he would
kill Strathgate, and eliminate his pos
sibilities of evil forever from this
world.
And Strathgate had exactly . the
•same thought for Carrington. By a
•curious mode of reasoning Strathgate
•chose to visit upon Carrington his
•own ill success with Lady Ellen. He
■came to the conclusion that if Car
rington had not interfered, all would
have gone well with his love affair.
Of course, in a measure Carrington
was responsible for Strathgate's lack
•of success with Lady Ellen, for Ellen
•devotedly and passionately loved her
husband; loved him still; loved him
perhaps never more than when with
Jealous anguish she saw him in Lady
Cecily's arms. But if Carrington bad
never crossed Ellen's course, Strath
gate was not the kind of a man that
would have appealed to her. Ellen
was too true, too simple, too direct in
her thoughts of life to tolerate long the
affectations, the sentimentalities and
impurities of a man like Strathgate.
So soon as her eyes were opened, she
would have abominated him; and her
eyes, unfortunately for Strathgate, had
been opened the minute he turned to
the west when she would have east
ward gone. But, of course, Strathgate
did not know this; that saving conceit,
which keeps some men from despair
was his, and he blamed all his misfor
tunes upon Carrington.
He, too, was early abroad, and
when the carriage drove through the
park gates and was directed by one
of Lord Blythedale's men to a shaded
coppice by a little brook half a mile
from the gate, Strathgate and
Blythedale with a surgeon, one from
the fleet named Nevinson, who was
known slightly to both men, were al
ready waiting on the ground.
Lord Blythedale was a man who
had gone the pace since he succeeded
to the title and fortune. The for
tune was not commensurate with the
title, and his seat and the park
Surrounding it, and the wall, like
wise, were in a state of wretched
disrepair. The place that he and
Strathgate had selected for the en
counter was a level bit of sward
which Blythedale had caused to bo
mowed and rolled the afternoon be
fore. It was shaded from the morn
ing sun by high trees. Neither com
batant could be maneuvered into any
position to get the sunlight into his
eyes. On one side of the smooth bit
of turf ran a little brook, on the other
the spaces between the trees were
filled by a thick, almost impenetrable
growth of underbrush. Although it
wiw already autumn, the haves had
not yet fallen, and the undergrowth,
which was a regular thicket, afforded
secure concealment for any observer.
Blythedale had arranged, as he
thought, that there should be no in
terruptions whatsoever, and early that
morning he had posted his game
keepers in a circle some distance
away from the dueling ground with in
structions to let 110 one pass. Al
though they were burning with curi
osity to see, themselves, the habit of
obedience was strong upon them, for
Blythedale was rather a heavy-handed
'master, and they stayed where they
were placed, their eyes resolutely
turned away from the encounter, keep
ing earnest watch. We have heard
of locking the door after the horse
had been stolen. This was a re
versal of that ancient practice, for
the keepers were posted after the
spectators had arrived.
The reader has divined, although 1
should like to keep him in suspense,
that the spectators were Ellen and
Debbie. They were brought to thai
spot by the God of Chance, who has a
habit of working most opportunely In
accordance with a poor author's
plans.
By some instinct, for which she
never ceased to bo thankful, Ellen had
put their boat on the right course
when she hoisted the sail and grap
pled the tiller in that moment when
they had escaped from the Flying
Star. The moon rose late and by the
time It was shining brightly Ellen was
so far in shore toward the east side
of Portsmouth harbor that the Brit
annia, lumbering over toward the
Isle of Wight, had no chance of pick
ing up the small boat.
It was almost morning when Ellen
made a landing. The wind was ad
verse for Portsmouth—which did not
trouble her, for she was quite anxious
not to appear in the streets of that
town in which she was sure her hus
band, Strathgate and Sir Charles
would soon be assembled. She had
formed no plan as to the future as yet.
She only wished to get ashore, to get
something to eat and a piace to lie
concealed while she thought it over.
The wind failed and it was not until
daybreak, or about four o'clock, that
Ellen ran ashore.
It was a lonely spot, some miles
to the eastward of Portsmouth. She
aroused Deborah, who had slept most
of the night in the bottom of the boat,
and the two tired women, after tying
the boat to the shore, plodded inland.
At a little farmhouse —the farmer's
wife being just arisen, apparently—
they got some bread and milk which
,*>'7 y
Finally They Came to a Low Place in
the Wall.
blunted the edge of their appetite—it
must be remembered that they had
not eaten anything since the noon be
fore—and from the woman they
learned the lay of the land.
They scrambled through by-patlis
for a long time and a little after six
o'clock reached the main road. Be
fore them rose the broken walls of a
gentleman's country seat. The road
was d«?serted at that hour. Ellen
hardly knew what to do. She did not
know how far it was to the next inn,
nor was she certain, if she did know,
that it would be a safe place for her
to hide. Debbie, out of whom the
spirit had been almost crushed by the
succession of dazzling adventures
through which she had passed, could
offer 110 suggestion of value. She
clung to Ellen's arm as if the latter
had been a man, and so far as
help or assistance was concerned was
& mere dead weight.
"One thing I tell you, Ellen," she be
gan at last, "I can go 110 farther; that
is, I can walk no farther. We must
find some place to rest.."
"Well, dear," said Ellen, tired
enough herself, but a man beside poor
Debbie, "let's enter that park, per
haps we can find some one there
among the servants who will help us
without asking too many questions.
"Those clothes you have on, Ellen,"
said Debbie, desperately, "are bound
to attract attention, or you in them.
I don't know what we are going to do!
I wish 1 were back in Carrington, or
I wish i was in Boston, or an the Fly
ing Star, or anywhere but here."
"Cheer up, Debbie," said Ellen, tak
ing her by the hand and leading her
forward, "we'll get into this park and
it shall go hard with us if I don't iind
some means of succoring you."
The two stumbled along the road
for a quarter of a mile, looking for a
place of entrance. The Kate was be
hind them, but Ellen did not deem it
wise to try that. Finally they came
to a low place in the wall over which
Ellen helped Debbie and followed her
self. The park in which they found
themselves had been badly neglected.
A mile away, as openings through the
trees gave them glimpses of it from
time to time, they saw the chimneys
and towers of a great house. Toward
It the two painfully made their way
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1908.
through the undergrowth, meeting no
one in their progress. After half an
hour's struggling, they came to an
open piece of sward, newly mowed it
was evident from the piles of grass
that had been raked away on the
edges. On the opposite of it a little
brook purled merrily over sand and
pebbles.
Thither the two women staggered,
and kneeling down took long draughts
of the sweetness and bathed their
faces and hands in the cold water.
They were thus engaged when they
heard voices coming from the direc
tion of the hall.
Instantly Ellen seized Deborah and
ran back to the thicket whence they
had just emerged and lay down, en
tirely concealed by the undergrowth,
although able to see everything them
selves that took place on the grass.
"Who is it, think you?" whispered
Debbie, after she had been forced
down into a prone position.
"How should I know?" answered
Ellen.
"Well, if it looks like a gentleman,"
continued Debbie, desperately, "I'm go
ing to get up and ask his assistance."
"You'll do no such thing," said El
len in a sharp whisper. "Be guided
by me. I know men and the world
as you don't."
Indeed, It would have been hard to
chooso between the innocence of the
matron and the maid, but Ellen flat
tered herself that her years and her
marriage had made her wise.
"Let me decide what is to be done,"
she added.
"You've decided everything," said
Debbie, resentfully, "and look what a
position we're in."
"Hush!" said Ellen. "Here they
are."
At the same instant a man stepped
into the clearing. Deborah opened
her mouth as if to scream. Ellen
caught her violently by the arm re
peating her caution.
"It's Lord Strathgate!" murmured
Deborah, amazed.
"I see," returned Ellen. "Now, will
you be quiet?"
"I wonder what he's here for?"
whispered poor Deborah under her
breath.
CHAPTER XIX,
A L'outrance.
Strathgate was followed by a small
man, rather extravagantly dressed,
who carried a couple of naked swords
under his arm. The small man yawned
prodigiously and appeared to be great
ly bored by the situation in which he
found himself, or by the early hour
at which he had been compelled to
arise. Hack of the two came another
man of plainer aspect, with a keen,
shrewd, business-like face. He was
dressed in a naval uniform of blue
and white and carried a strange look
ing, leather covered box, of which
neither Ellen nor Deborah knew what
to make at first.
The man in uniform selected a con
venient spot about the center of the
sward, well in the shade of the trees,
deposited his box, opened it, knelt
down and busied himself over its con
tents, which so far as the women
could make out consisted of bottles,
bandages and shining instruments of
some sort. Lady Cecily would have
known instantly what was about to
occur, but it was some time before
either Deborah or Ellen divined that
they were to be the spectators to a
duel.
"I wonder where they are?" tho
little man carrying the swords yawned
out, looking vaguely about the clear
ing.
Strathgate pulled out his watch.
" 'Tis not yet the appointed hour,"
he answered.
"What the devil made you get up so
early, then?" asked the small man,
grumpily.
"I always like to be beforehand in
affairs of this kind, Blythedale," re
turned Strathgate.
"Well, I wish the others would come
so we can have it over and get back
to breakfast, or more like to bed,"
growled Blythedale, crossly.
Strathgate laughed at him.
"They'll be here on time. You
needn't worry, Ciirrington is a fool
where women are concerned, but he's
not afraid of any man, I take it, and
you'll see him indue course."
"Well, I wish he'd hurry up," grum
bled the bad-teinpered baron as Strath
gate turned and walked over toward
the doctor.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
WORLD'S NEED STRONG MEN.
Should Be Better Than the Genera
tions of the Past.
Some of us are disposed to be satis
fied if we can be pretty nearly as
good as the men of the last genera
tion. That will not do at all. The
men of this generation have got to
be a great deal better men—bigger,
broader, sounder, keener, braver,
men—than their fathers were. If
they are not they will be swamped
with the business of the world in
their hands. The entire ethical
standard of financial life is being,
and must bo, lifted up. We cannot
do the enormously increased busi
ness of the world to-day on the moral
plane where we were living 25 years
ago. If we attempt it we shall plunge
ourselves in chaos. We have got to
have higher principles of justice and
equality and clearer notions of finan
cial integrity, and stronger convictions
of fidelity to trusts, and a deeper sense
of the business responsibility of every
man to the whole community.—Wash
ington Gladden.
Paint the Lowest Step.
Paint tho lowest cellar step white if
the cellar is dark. This plan muv
save a fall and will do away with
feeling for the last step when goin„'
downstairs.
=Light l =
Freights
By
" I W. W. JACOBS I
RESURRECTION
OF WIGGETT
(Copyright, L>odd, &iead Company.)
Mr. Sol Ketchmaid, landlord of the
Ship, sat in his snug bar, rising oc
casionally from his seat by the taps
to minister to the wants of the cus
tomers who shared this pleasant re
treat with him.
Forty years at sea before the mast
had made Mr. Ketchmaid an authority
on affairs maritime; five years in
command of the Ship inn, with the
nearest other licensed house five miles
off, had made him an autocrat.
Twice recently had he found oc
casion to warn Mr. Ned Clarlt, the vil
lage shoemaker, the strength of whose
head had been a boast in the village
for many years. On the third occasion
the indignant shoemaker was inter
rupted in the middle of an impas
sioned harangue on free speech and
bundled into the road by the ostler.
After this nobody was safe.
To-night Mr. Ketchmaid, meeting
bis eye as he entered the bar, ncdded
curtly. The shoemaker had stayed
away three days as a protest, and the
landlord was naturally indignant at
such contumacy.
"Good evening, Mr. Ketchmaid,"
said the shoemaker, screwing up his
little black eyes; "just give me a
small bottle o' lemonade, if you
please."
"Go and get your lemonade some
where else," said the bursting Mr.
Ketchmaid.
"I prefer to 'ave it here," rejoined
the shoemaker, "and you've got to
serve me, Ketchmaid. A licensed pub
lican Is compelled to serve people
whether ho likes to or not, else he
loses of 'is license."
"Not when they're the worse for
licker he ain't," said the landlord.
"Here's the 'ealth of Henry Wiggett
what lost 'is leg to save Mr. Ketch
maid's life," he said, unctuously.
"Also the 'ealth of Sam Jones, who
let hisself be speared through the
chest for the same noble purpose.
Likewise the health of Capt. Peters,
who nursed Mr. Ketchmaid like 'is
own son when he got knocked up do
ing tho work of five men as was
drowned; likewise the health o' Dick
Lee, who helped Mr. Ketchmaid cap
ture a Chinese junk full of pirates and
killed the whole 17 of 'em by— 'Ow
did you say you killed 'em, Ketch
maid?"
The landlord, who was busy with
the taps, affected not to hear.
"Killed the whole 17 of 'em by first
telling 'em yarns till they fell asleep
Bundled Into the Road by the Ostler.
and then choking 'em with Henry VVig
gett's wooden leg," resumed the shoe
maker.
"Understand, Ned Clark," said the
Indignant Mr. Ketchmaid, "I don't
want your money in this public house.
Take it somewhere else."
"Thank'ee, but 1 prefer to come
here," said the shoemaker, ostenta
tiously sipping his lemonade.
"Do you disbelieve my word?" de
manded Mr. Ketchmaid, hotly.
"Why, o' course 1 do," replied the
shoemaker; "we all do. You'd see
how silly they ato yourself if you only
stepped to think. You and your
iharks! —no shark would want to eat
you unless it was blind."
It was about a week later, Mr.
Ketchmaid had just resumed his seat
after serving a customer, when the
attention of all present was attracted
by an odd and regular tapping on the
b: irk paved passage outside. It
•?t( | ped at the taproom, and a mur
in it ■ of voices escaped at tho open
lour. Th«*n the door WHS closed, and
t loud, penetrating voice called on the
ua:;;e ui Sol Ketchmaid.
"Hennery Wig-gett!" gasped the
landloard, as a small man with ragged
whiskers appeared at the wicket, "it
can't be!"
The new-comer regarded him ten
derly for a moment without a word,
and then, kicking open the door with
an unmistakable wooden leg, stumped
into the bar, and grasping his out
stretched hand shook it fervently.
"The sight o' you, Hennery Wig
gett, is better to me than diamonds,"
said Mr. Ketchmaid, ecstatically. "How
did you get here?"
"A friend of his, Cap'n Jones of the
barque Venue, gave me a passage to
London," said Mr. Wiggett, "and I've
tramped down from there without a
penny in my pocket."
"And Sol Ketchmaid's glad to see
you, sir," said Mr. Smith, who, with
the rest of the company, had been
looking on in a state of great admira
tion. "He's never tired of telling us
'ow you saved him from the shark and
'ad your leg bit off in so doing."
"I'd 'ave my other bit off for 'lm,
too," said Mr. Wiggett, as the landlord
patted him affectionately on the shoul
der and thrust a glass of spirits into
his hands. "Cheerful, I would. The
kindest-'earted and the bravest man
that ever breathed, is old Sol Ketch
maid."
"You never 'eard anything more o'
pore Sam Jones, I s'pose?" said Mr.
Ketchmaid.
Mr. Wiggett put down his glass.
"Iran up agin a man in Rio Janeiro
two years ago," he said, mournfully.
Wiped His Eye 3 to the Memory of the
Faithful Black.
"Pore old Sam died in 'is arms with
your name up 'is honest black lips.
"When I was laying in my bunk in
the fo'c's'le being nursed back to life,"
continued Mr. Wiggett, enthusiastical
ly, "who was it that set by my side
'olding my 'and and telling me to live
for his sake? —why, Sol Ketchmaid.
Who was it that said that he'd stick
to me for life? —why Sol Ketchmaid.
Who was it said that so long as 'e
'ad a crust I should have first bite at
it, and so long as 'e 'ad a bed I should
'ave first half of it? —why, Sol Ketch
maid!
"In my old age and on my beam
ends," continued Mr. Wiggett, "I re
membered them words of old Sol, and
I knew if I could only find 'im my
troubles were over. I knew that I
could creep into 'is little harbor and
lay snug. I knew that what Sol said
he meant. I lost my leg saving 'is
life, and he is grateful."
"'So he ought to be," said Mr. Clark,
"and I'm proud to shake 'ands with a
hero."
He gripped Mr. Wiggett's hand, and
the other followed *uit. The wooden
legged man wound up with Mr. Ketch
maid, and, disdaining to notice that
that veracious mariner's grasp was
somewhat limp, sank into his chair
again and asked for a cigar.
"Lend me the box, Sol," he said, jov
ially, as he took it from him. "I'm going
to 'and 'em 'round. This is my treat,
mates. Pore old Henry Wiggett's
treat."
He passed the box 'round, Mr.
Ketchmaid watching in helpless indig
nation as the customers, discarding
their pipes, thanked Mr. Wiggett.
Closing time came all too soon, Mr.
Wiggett, whose popularity was never
for a moment in doubt, developing
gifts to' which his friend had never
even alluded.
"I 'ope you're satisfied," said Mr.
Wiggett, as the landlord, having shot
the bolts of the front door, returned to
tho bar.
"You went a bit too far," said Mr.
Ketchmaid, shortly; "you should ha'
been content with doing what I told
you to do. And who asked you to
'and my cigars 'round?"
"I got a bit excited," pleaded the
other.
"And you forgot to tell 'em you're
going to start to-morrow to live with
that niece of yours In New Zealand,"
added the landloid.
"So I did," said Mr. Wiggett, smiting
his forehead; "so I d. I'm very sor
*y; I'll tell 'cm to-morrow night."
"Mention it casual like, to-morrow
morning," commanded Mr. Ketchmaid,
"anil get off in the afternoon, then I'll
give you some dinner besides tho live
shillings as arranged."
To the landlord's great annoyance
his guest went for a walk next morn
ing and did not return until the even
ing. when he explained that he had
walked too far for his crippled condi
tion and was unable to get back.
The helpless Mr. Ketchmaid sal-
fered In silence, with his eye on the
clock, and almost danced with Im
patience at the tardiness of his de
parting guests. He accompanied the
last man to the door, and then, crim
son with rage, returned to the bar tt
talk to Mr. Wiggett.
"Wot d'y'r mean by It?" he thun
dered.
"Mean by what, Sol?" inquired Mr.
Wiggett, looking up in surprise.
"Don't call me Sol, 'cos I won't have
It," vociferated the landlord, standing
over him with his fist clenched. "First
thing to-morrow morning off you go."
"Off?" repeated the other in amaze
ment. "Off? Where to?"
"Anywhere," said the overwrought
landlord; "so long as you get out of
bore, I don't care where you go."
Mr. Wiggett, who was smoking a
cigar, the third that evening, laid it
carefully on the table by his side, and
regarded him with tender reproach.
"Arrangement!" said the mystified
Mr. Wiggett; "what arrangements?
Why, I ain't seen you for ten years
and more. If It 'adn't been for meet
ing Cap'n Peters—"
He was interrupted by frenzied and
incoherent exclamations from Mr.
Ketchmaid.
"You rascal," said the landlord, in
a stifled voice. "You Infernal rescal.
I never set eyes on you till I raw you
the other day on the quay at Burnsea,
and, Just for an innercent little joke
like with Ned Clark, asked you to
come In and pretend."
"Pretend!" repeated Mr. Wiggett, in
a horror-stricken voice.
"Look 'ere," said Mr. Ketchmaid,
thrusting an infuriated face close to
his, "there never was a Henery Wig
gett; there never wu a shark; there
never was a Sam Jones!"
Mr. Wiggett fumbled In his pocket,
and producing the remains of a dirty
handkerchief, wiped his eyes to the
memory of the faithful black.
"Look here," said Mr. Ketchmaid,
putting down the bottle and regarding
him intently," "you've got me fair.
Now, will you go for a pound?"
Wiggett took a box of matches from
the bar and, relighting the stump of
his cigar, contemplated Mr. Ketch
maid for some time in silence, and
then, with a serious shake of his head,
stumped off to bed.
A week passed, and Mr. Wiggett
still graced with his presence the bar
of the Ship.
"I shall tell the chaps to-night that
it was a little joke on my part," Ketch
maid announced, with grim decision;
"then I shall take you by the collar
and kick you into the road."
Mr. Wiggett sighed and shook his
head.
"It'll be a terrible show-up for you,"
he said, softly. "You'd better make it
worth my while, and I'll tell 'em this
evening that I'm going to New Zealand
to live with a niece of mine there, and
that you've paid my passage for me.
I don't like telling any more lies, but,
seeing it's for you, I'll do it for a
couple of pounds."
"Five shillings," snarled Mr. Ketch
maid.
Mr. Wiggett smiled comfortably and
shook his head. Mr. Ketchmaid raised
his offer to ten shillings, to a pound,
and finally, after a few remarks which
prompted Mr. Wiggett to state that
hard words broke no bones, flung into
the bar and fetched the money.
The news of Mr. W'iggett's depar
ture went round the village at once,
the landlord himself breaking the
news to the next customer, and an
overflow meeting assembled that even
ing to bid the emigrant farwell.
The landlord noted with pleasure
that business was brisk. Several gen
tlemen stood drink to Mr. Wiggett,
and in return he put his hand in his
own pocket and ordered glasses round.
Mr. Ketchmaid, in a state of some un
easiness, took the order, and then Mr.
Wiggett, with the air of one confer
iing inestimable benefits, produced a
luck half-penny, which had once be
longed to Sam Jones, and insisted
upon his keeping it.
"This is my last night, mates," he
said, mournfully, as he acknowledged
the drinking of his health.
"In my lonely pilgrimage through
life, crippled and 'aving to beg my
bread," he said, tearfully, "I shall
think o' this 'appy bar and these
friendly faces. When I am wrestlin'
with the pangs of 'unger and being
moved on by the 'eartless police, I
shall think of you as I last saw you."
"But," said Mr. Smith, voicing the
general consternation, "you're going
to your niece in New Zealand?"
Mr. Wiggett shook his head and
smiled a sad, sweet smile.
"I 'ave no niece," he said, simnly;
"I'm alone in the world."
"Ketchmaid told me hisself as he'd
paid your passage to New Zealand,"
said the shoemaker; "he said as 'e'd
pressed you to stay, but that you said
as blood was thicker even than friend
ship."
"All lies," said Mr. Wiggett, sadly.
"I'll stay with pleasure if he'll give
the word. I'll stay even now if 'e
wishes it.
"He don't like my being 'ere," he
raid, in a low voice. "He grudges the
little bit I eat, I s'pose. He told me
I'd got togo, and that for the look o'
things 'e was going to pretend I was
going to New Zealand. I was too
broke-'eurted at the time to care wot
he said—l 'ave no wish to sponge on
no inan—but, seeing your 'onest faces
round me, 1 couldn't go with a lie on
my lips—Sol Ketchmaid, old shipmate
—good-bye."
He turned to the speechless land
lord, made as though to shake hands
with him, thought better of it, and
then, with a wave of his hand full of
chastened dignity, withdrew. Hl«
stump rang with pathetic insistence
upon the brick-paved passage, paused
at the door, and then, tapping on the
hard road, died slowly away in th«
distance, inside the Ship (lie shoe
maker gave an ominous order for l«ia
ouude.