Kennie cleared his throat, and dropping the deep bass voice of reminiscence, he began the history in a high-pitched tone of narrative.  "I was walking home alone one night from the City, when a very strange, low fellow accosted me, and asked me for some money. The man's destitute appearance appealed to me, and unfortunately I gave him threepence. I suppose the action was about as dangerous a thing as I could have done. It showed that I had money, and I was practically defenceless while feeling in my pockets. The Embankment at that time of the evening was almost deserted; I could see the shipping in the river and the lights, and even passing cabs, but I was strangely alone, and still the man followed me. At last, in desperation, I raised my stick to drive him from me, and the next moment he had grappled with me! Instantly my blood was up!"  The Pirate Boy stood still in the middle of the highroad, and went through a series of very forcible pantomimic gestures, and with awful facial contortions, indicative of violent exertion, he raised some imaginary object above his head and flung it from him.  "The next moment," said Kennie, "I heard a splash. I had vanquished the man, and flung him far from me, straight from the Thames Embankment into the river." 

 I was prepared to make an exclamation, but was prevented by Kennie, who said in a dramatic sort of way, "Wait!" and went on with his story. "My instinct was to plunge after him, but I heard no sound, no cry, and from that day to this that struggle by the water's edge remains as one of the most vivid experiences of my life—in England, at least. But the man's end remains a mystery: I can tell you nothing more of him." 

 "I think I would have fished the poor wretch out," I said, and moved onwards on our walk, our pause in the public highway having lasted a considerable time. 

 "One learns rough justice out there," said Kennie. 

 

 

 CHAPTER V. 

 Miss Taylor was really responsible for the formation of the Stowel Reading Society, but Eliza Jamieson was her staunch supporter. Eliza drew the line at poetry and metaphysics, "Neither of which," she said, "I consider an exact science." 

 Miss Taylor said: "But it is not a scientific course that I propose; it is English literature in its fullest sense. I do think that Stowel is getting behind the rest of the world in its knowledge of the best literature, and I am sure that if a 

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