the country who is as like me as two peas. See?"

"Name o' Dodd," said Mr. Stokes, with a knowing nod. "Tommy Dodd."

"I'm not playing the giddy goat," said the other, bitterly, "and I'd
thank you not to."

"All right," said Mr. Stokes, somewhat taken aback. "Any name you like;
I don't mind."

Mr. Henshaw pondered. "Any sensible name'll do," he said, stiffly.

"Bell?" suggested Mr. Stokes. "Alfred Bell? I did know a man o' that
name once. He tried to borrow a bob off of me."

"That'll do," said his friend, after some consideration; "but mind you
stick to the same name. And you'd better make up something about him--
where he lives, and all that sort of thing--so that you can stand being
questioned without looking more like a silly fool than you can help."

"I'll do what I can for you," said Mr. Stokes, "but I don't s'pose your
missis'll come to me at all. She saw you plain enough."

They walked on in silence and, still deep in thought over the matter,
turned into a neighboring tavern for refreshment. Mr. Henshaw drank his
with the air of a man performing a duty to his constitution; but Mr.
Stokes, smacking his lips, waxed eloquent over the brew.

"I hardly know what I'm drinking," said his friend, forlornly. "I
suppose it's four-half, because that's what I asked for."