their meals and the weather.

The second day proved rough and wet and the smoking-room was crowded.
Here Shafto made an acquaintance with a well-set-up, weather-beaten young
man, his neighbour. Finding they had similar tastes with regard to
cigars and boots, they proceeded to cement an acquaintance. Hoskins was
the name of Shafto's companion, and after half an hour's lively talk, he
exclaimed:

"I say, look here, we must dig you out of 'the Potter's Field,' and bring
you to our table."

"What do you mean by 'the Potter's Field'?"

"Why, to bury strangers in! We bury dull folk and such-like in the table
near the door; but I'll speak to the head steward and get you moved."

And before the next meal Shafto's transition was an accomplished fact,
and he found himself one of a merry and congenial circle. In his novel
and detached position he realised a sense of independence; he was
breathing a new existence, an exhilarating atmosphere, and enjoying every
hour of the day.

At table and in the smoke-room he picked up a certain amount of useful
information respecting Burma, listened to many a "Don't" with polite
attention, and was offered the address of a fairly good chummery in
Rangoon. As he could play bridge without letting down his partners, was
active at deck sports, and invariably cheery and obliging, he soon gained
that effervescent prize, "board-ship popularity."