ige where I can;
besides, you would do as much for me, I'll wager. Well, good-day, Mr--
what's your name?"

"Loman--at Saint Dominic's. You'll send me a line, then about the
price?"

"Yes, sir. Good-day, sir."

But Mr Cripps had forgotten to send the line, and to-day, when Loman,
according to arrangement, came up to the lock-keeper's to receive the
rod, the keeper of the Cockchafer was most profuse in his apologies. He
was most sorry, but his friend had been ill and not able to attend to
business. He had been a _trifle_ afraid from what he heard that he was
not quite as anxious to part with that rod as formerly. But Cripps had
gone over on purpose and seen him, and got his promise that he should
have it to-morrow certain, and if Mr Loman would call or send up, it
should be ready for him, without fail.

At this stage, Stephen, having explored the weir, rejoined his
schoolfellow, and the two, after partaking of a bottle of ginger-beer at
Mr Cripps's urgent request, returned with the stream to Saint
Dominic's.

The result of this delay was to make Loman doubly anxious to secure this
famous fishing-rod, on which his heart was set. Next day, however, he
had classes all the afternoon, and could not go himself. He therefore
determined to send Stephen.

"I want you to run up to Gusset Weir," said he to his fag, "to fetch me
a rod the keeper's son is getting for me. Be quick back, will you? and
ask him what the price is."

So off Stephen trotted, as soon as school was over, in spite of the
counter attraction of a Guinea-pig cricket match. When he reached the
lock, Cripps had not arrived.

"He warn't be long, young maister," said old Jeff, who was one of the
snivelling order. "Take a seat, do 'ee. Nice to be a young gemm'un, I
says--us poor coves as works wery 'ard, we'd like to be young gemm'un
too, with lots o' money, and all so comfortable off. Why, young
maister, you don't know now what it is to be in want of a shillun. I
do!"

Stephen promptly pulled out one of his five shillings of pocket-money in
answer to this appeal, and felt rather ashamed to appear "comfortable
off" in the presence of this patriarch.

"Not that I complains o' my lot, young gemm'un," continued old Cripps,
pulling his forelock with one hand and pocketing the shilling with the
other. "No, I says, the honest working man don't do no good
a-grumblin', but when he's got his famerly to feed," [old Cripps was a
widower, and his fam