pa's jokes."

At that he laughed again. "But she likes the other parts?" he enquired,
"the parts where Mr. Dickens isn't--vulgar?"

"Oh, yes," I answered. "She says he can be so beautiful and tender, when
he likes."

Twilight was deepening. It occurred to me to enquire of him again the
time.

"Just over the quarter," he answered, looking at his watch.

"I'm so sorry," I said. "I must go now."

"So am I sorry, Paul," he answered. "Perhaps we shall meet again.
Good-bye." Then as our hands touched: "You have never asked me my name,
Paul," he reminded me.

"Oh, haven't I?" I answered.

"No, Paul," he replied, "and that makes me think of your future with
hope. You are an egotist, Paul; and that is the beginning of all art."

And after that he would not tell me his name. "Perhaps next time we
meet," he said. "Good-bye, Paul. Good luck to you!"

So I went my way. Where the path winds out of sight I turned. He was
still seated upon the bench, but his face was towards me, and he waved
his hand to me. I answered with a wave of mine. And then the intervening
boughs and bushes gradually closed in around me. And across the rising
mist there rose the hoarse, harsh cry:

"All out! All out!"

CHAPTER X.

IN WHICH PAUL IS SHIPWRECKED, AND CAST INTO DEEP WATERS.

My father died, curiously enough, on the morning of his birthday. We had
not expected the end to arrive for some time, and at first did not know
that it had come.

"I have left him sleeping," said my mother, who had slipped out very
quietly in her dressing-gown. "Washburn gave him a draught last night.
We won't disturb him."

So we sat round the breakfast table, speaking in low tones, for the
house was small and flimsy, all sound easily heard through its thin
partitions. Afterwards my mother crept upstairs, I following, and
cautiously opened the door a little way.

The blinds were still down, and the room dark. It seemed a long time
that my mother stood there listening, her ear against the jar. The
first costermonger--a girl's voice, it sounded--passed, crying shrilly:
"Watercreases, fine fresh watercreases with your breakfast-a'penny
a bundle watercreases;" and further off a hoarse youth was wailing:
"Mee-ilk-mee-ilk-oi."

Inch by inch my mother opened the door wider and we stole in. He was
lying with his eyes still closed, the lips just slightly parted. I had
never seen death before, and could not realise it. All that I could see
was that he looked