a racketing world of its own--and find everything in Farlingford
just the same."

He had shaken hands with the rector and with Miriam Liston as he
spoke, and his speech was not the speech of Farlingford men at all,
but rather of Septimus Marvin himself, of whose voice he had
acquired the ring of education, while adding to it a neatness and
quickness of enunciation which must have been his own; for none in
Suffolk could have taught it to him.

"Just the same," he repeated, glancing at the book Miriam had laid
aside for a moment to greet him and had now taken up again. "That
book must be very large print," he said, "for you to be able to read
by this light."

"It is large print," answered the girl, with a friendly laugh, as
she returned to it.

"And you are still resolved to be a sailor?" inquired Marvin,
looking at him with kind eyes for ever asleep, it would appear, in
some long slumber which must have been the death of one of the
sources of human energy--of ambition or of hope.

"Until I find a better calling," answered Loo Barebone, with his
eager laugh. "When I am away I wonder how any can be content to
live in Farlingford and let the world go by. And when I am here I
wonder how any can be so foolish as to fret and fume in the restless
world while he might be sitting quietly at Farlingford."

"Ah," murmured the rector, musingly, "you are for the world. You,