at for the future the business should be carried on under the
name of 'Garman and Worse.'"

"Yes; but--but--all the rest is practicable; but the name--your
father's name!"

"Possibly my father would not have done it, but I will have it so.
This arrangement is--h'm--the saving of the firm; I am bound to
acknowledge it, and I therefore urge you to agree to my proposal."

"But my good Herr Consul," resumed Worse, who had suddenly come down
again to his former position, and could not reconcile himself to the
notion of entering into partnership with Morten W. Garman, the Consul
himself.

The other, however, held firmly to his purpose; and as he made a
request, there was nothing for it but to accept the offer.

They remained in conversation a long time, discussing future
arrangements. The Consul said plainly that he did not expect Jacob
Worse to mix himself up with the business, an idea which made him
laugh outright, as it would never occur to him to interfere.

As he rowed back to the town, it seemed to him that he was quite a
different Jacob Worse to the one who had rowed from it. Certain
ambitious views of his new dignity began to assert themselves, and he
sat repeating: "Garman and Worse," wondering what sort of impression
it would make on Randulf.

Nevertheless, he was not entirely happy; it was too much--it had come
upon him too suddenly--and he did not care to talk about it.

Consul Garman, however, made no secret of the change in the firm, and
the next day the news was announced in the two local papers, each
about the size of an ordinary cabbage leaf.

It is easy to conceive what a welcome opportunity this event afforded
for festive meetings, and for extra libations and singing at the
club.

Jacob Worse was feted at the club, speeches were made in his honour,
and, as the drinking went on, was chaffed unmercifully. Envy is
always very witty, and his elevation became by no means a source of
unmixed pleasure to him.

And from Randulf, that old rascal who had written from Riga that he
was on the point of sailing, came tidings that he had been in
collision with a Rostock trader, and that he had put back to
Bolderaa, where he must discharge and repair. It only required that
he should be frozen up there for the winter to make the
disappointment complete.

When Romarino heard of the arrangements that had been made, he wrote
to his father, as if acknowledging him for the first time in his
life.

Worse, howev