desolate and left-behind enough for
anything. While drifting aimlessly round town with an eye out for some
chance acquaintance to have a knock round with, you run against an old
chum whom you never dreamt of meeting, or whom you thought to be in some
other part of the country--or perhaps you knock up against someone who
knows the old chum in question, and he says:

"I suppose you know Tom Smith's in Sydney?"

"Tom Smith! Why, I thought he was in Queensland! I haven't seen him for
more than three years. Where's the old joker hanging out at all? Why,
except you, there's no one in Australia I'd sooner see than Tom Smith.
Here I've been mooning round like an unemployed for three weeks, looking
for someone to have a knock round with, and Tom in Sydney all the time.
I wish I'd known before. Where'll I run against him--where does he
live?"

"Oh, he's living at home."

"But where's his home? I was never there."

"Oh, I'll give you his address.... There, I think that's it. I'm not
sure about the number, but you'll soon find out in that street--most of
'em'll know Tom Smith."

"Thanks! I rather think they will. I'm glad I met you. I'll hunt Tom up
to-day."

So you put a few shillings in your pocket, tell your landlady that
you're going to visit an old aunt of yours or a sick friend, and mayn't
be home that night; and then you start out to hunt up Tom Smith and have
at least one more good night, if you die for it.

. . . . .

This is the first time you have seen Tom at home; you knew of his home
and people in the old days, but only in a vague, indefinite sort of way.
Tom has changed! He is stouter and older-looking; he seems solemn and
settled down. You intended to give him a surprise and have a good old
jolly laugh with him, but somehow things get suddenly damped at the
beginning. He grins and grips your hand right enough, but there seems
something wanting. You can't help staring at him, and he seems to look
at you in a strange, disappointing way; it doesn't strike you that you
also have changed, and perhaps more in his eyes than he in yours. He
introduces you to his mother and sisters and brothers, and the rest of
the family; or to his wife, as the case may be; and you have to suppress
your feelings and be polite and talk common-place. You hate to be polite
and talk common-place. You aren't built that way--and Tom wasn't either,
in the old days. The wife (or the mother and sisters) receives you
kindly, fo