beastly pride.
There wasn't any pride of that sort on the track or in the camp in
those days; but times have changed--your lives have drifted too widely
apart--you have taken different tracks since then; and Jack, without
intending to, makes you feel that it is so.

You have a drink, but it isn't a success; it falls flat, as far as Jack
is concerned; he won't have another; he doesn't "feel on", and presently
he escapes under plea of an engagement, and promises to see you again.

And you wish that the time was come when no one could have more or less
to spend than another.

. . . . .

P.S.--I met an old mate of that description once, and so successfully
persuaded him out of his beastly pride that he borrowed two pounds off
me till Monday. I never got it back since, and I want it badly at
the present time. In future I'll leave old mates with their pride
unimpaired.

Two Larrikins

"Y'orter do something, Ernie. Yer know how I am. YOU don't seem to care.
Y'orter to do something."

Stowsher slouched at a greater angle to the greasy door-post, and
scowled under his hat-brim. It was a little, low, frowsy room opening
into Jones' Alley. She sat at the table, sewing--a thin, sallow girl
with weak, colourless eyes. She looked as frowsy as her surroundings.

"Well, why don't you go to some of them women, and get fixed up?"

She flicked the end of the table-cloth over some tiny, unfinished
articles of clothing, and bent to her work.

"But you know very well I haven't got a shilling, Ernie," she said,
quietly. "Where am I to get the money from?"

"Who asked yer to get it?"

She was silent, with the exasperating silence of a woman who has
determined to do a thing in spite of all reasons and arguments that may
be brought against it.

"Well, wot more do yer want?" demanded Stowsher, impatiently.

She bent lower. "Couldn't we keep it, Ernie?"

"Wot next?" asked Stowsher, sulkily--he had half suspected what was
coming. Then, with an impatient oath, "You must be gettin' ratty."

She brushed the corner of the cloth further over the little clothes.

"It wouldn't cost anything, Ernie. I'd take a pride in him, and keep him
clean, and dress him like a little lord. He'll be different from all the
other youngsters. He wouldn't be like those dirty, sickly little brats
out there. He'd be just like you, Ernie; I know he would. I'll look
after him night and day, and bring him up well and strong. We'd train