"Yes," said the unconscious Mr. Silk, sign of a fine day to-morrow.
"Are you going my way?"

Mr. Wilks smiled, and detaching himself from the tavern with some
difficulty just saved Mr. Silk from a terrible fall by clutching him
forcibly round the neck. The ingratitude of Mr. Silk was a rebuff to a
nature which was at that moment overflowing with good will. For a moment
the steward was half inclined to let him go home alone, but the
reflection that he would never get there softened him.

"Pull yourself t'gether," he said, gravely, "Now, 'old on me."

The road, as they walked, rose up in imitation of the shipping, but Mr.
Wilks knew now the explanation: Teddy Silk was intoxicated. Very gently
he leaned towards the erring youth and wagged his head at him.

"Are you going to hold up or aren't you?" demanded Mr. Silk, shortly.

The steward waived the question; he knew from experience the futility of
arguing with men in drink. The great thing was to get Teddy Silk home,
not to argue with him. He smiled good-temperedly to himself, and with a
sudden movement pinned him up against the wall in time to arrest another`
fall.

[Illustration: "The great thing was to get Teddy Silk home."]

With frequent halts by the way, during which the shortness of Mr. Silk's
temper furnished Mr. Wilks with the texts of several sermons, none of
which he finished, they at last reached Fullalove Alley, and the steward,
with a brief exhortation to his charge to hold his head up, bore down on