tap-room of a public-house. No water, only spirits. That must cure
you."

So GEORGE ordered STARLING to hire a public-house in a populous
district. When this was done, he went and lived there. But you
scarcely need to be told that STARLING had not carried out his orders.
How could he be expected to do that? Only fifty-six pages of my book
had been written, and even publishers--the most abandoned people on
the face of the earth--know that that amount won't make a Christmas
Annual. So STARLING hired a Temperance Hotel. As I have said, he was
a devil of a gyp.

CHAPTER IV.

The fact was this. One of GEORGE's great-great uncles had held a
commission in the Blue Ribbon Army. GEORGE remembered this too late.
The offer of a seat in the University Trial Eights must have suggested
the blue ribbon which the University Crew wear on their straw hats.
Thus the diabolical forces of heredity were roused to fever-heat, and
the great-great uncle, with his blue ribbon, whose photograph hung in
GEORGE's home over the parlour mantelpiece, became a living force in
GEORGE's brain.

GEORGE GINSLING went and lived in a suburban neighbourhood. It was
useless. He married a sweet girl with various spiteful relations. In
vain. He changed his name to PUMPDRY, and conducted a local newspaper.
Profitless striving. STARLING was always at hand, always ready
with the patent filter, and as punctual in his appearances as the
washing-bill or the East wind. I repeat, he was a devil of a gyp.