where a man, equipped with a shilling, and an anxiety about an unsettled future, might commune comfortably with his thoughts.

In this sanctuary the cook of the “Jane Gladys” remained for some while, with his cogitations becoming lighter and lighter in texture with every lift of his glass, till presently he had reverted to the normal, and was once again looking on the world as nothing more formidable than a vast territory bristling with chances for a quick-witted sea-cook to grasp.

And, therefore, when the door opened to admit Captain Simon Gooster, of the “Alert,” it was but natural that Horace’s bouyant imagination should present to him the bulky figure of the new-comer as not being alone, but as stalking in arm-in-arm with smiling Opportunity.

“Evening, sir,” said Horace, very respectfully. Captain Gooster nodded, glanced at the measure which Horace had hastily emptied, and then, disappointedly, glanced away again. Mr. Dobb ventured to commend the weather, to which Captain Gooster responded, absently, and, indeed, somewhat fretfully.

Horace at once conceded that doubtless Captain Gooster was right, but the skipper of the “Alert,” passing on, selected a seat in a remote corner and there posed unsociably.

Mr. Dobb, dissembling his irritation, entered into casual talk with another patron, who, it transpired, had p. 7a precocious child at home, an infant whose sallies so diverted Mr. Dobb that soon his glass was being refilled for him by order of the gratified parent. Immediately after, Horace’s interest in the prodigy seemed suddenly to wane, though this was due less to thankfulness than to the fact that he had perceived Captain Gooster to be looking at him in a concentrated and speculative manner.

p. 7

The captain’s stare fascinated Horace, and continually his eyes roved back to the skipper of the “Alert,” and each time he accorded Captain Gooster a more ingratiating leer on meeting his gaze. At last Captain Gooster beckoned authoritatively and patted the empty chair beside him, whereat Mr. Dobb readily sprang to his feet and took the indicated place, leaving the sire of the infant prodigy indignantly helpless in the very middle of a family anecdote.

“You’re the cook of the ‘Jane Gladys,’ ain’t you?” opened Captain Gooster.

“At present, sir,” said Mr. Dobb.

“I’ve ’eard about 

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