me, but as a practical man I insist on facing the worst--even so I have
found a congenial spirit, a co-mate and brother in exile, a Friend in my
retreat Whom I can whisper: 'Solitude is sweet.' Pursue, my dear
Smiles! You are young: hope sits on your helm and irradiates it.
For me, my bark is stranded, my fortunes shipwrecked, my career trickles
out in the sands. Nevertheless, take the advice of an Elder Brother,
and pursue. By the way"--Mr. Mortimer drew from his breast-pocket the
stump of a half-consumed cigar--"I regret that I have not its fellow to
offer you; but could you oblige me with a match?"

Sam produced a couple of sulphur matches.

"I thank you." Mr. Mortimer lit and inhaled. "A--ah!" he sighed between
two luxurious puffs. "Connoisseurs--epicures--tell me a cigar should
never be lit twice. But with tobacco of this quality--the last of the
box, alas! All its blooming companions--and, between you and me,
smuggled." He winked knowingly.

Just then a hooter from the Great Brewery announced five o'clock.
Sam groaned. He had engaged himself to the schoolmaster for an hour's
private tuition before the Evening Class opened, and Mr. Mortimer's
fascinating talk had destroyed his last chance of keeping that
engagement. Even if he dropped work straight away, it would take him a
good three-quarters of an hour to clean himself and don his best suit.

He was explaining this to Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer when, his eyes resting
on the empty shafts of the wagon, a happy thought occurred to him.

"O' course," he began, "--but there, I don't like to suggest it, sir."