d Whipcord.

"Well, what!" said Doubleday, savagely "The joke?"

"Why, that _was_ the joke, you blockhead! But we can't expect a poor
fellow like you to see it. I say, the Field-Marshal's behind time.
I'll give him two minutes, and then we'll start without him."

Just then there was a knock at the door, and two fellows entered. One
was a tall, thin, cadaverous-looking boy a little my senior, and the
other--his exact contrast, a thick-set, burly youth, with a merry
twinkle in his eye and a chronic grin on his lips.

"Late again, Field-Marshal," said Doubleday, clapping the cadaverous one
on the back with a blow that nearly doubled him up. "Is this your chum?
How are you, Patrick?"

The youth addressed as Patrick, but whose real name subsequently was
announced as Daly, said he was "rightly," and that it was his fault the
Field-Marshal was late, as he had to shave.

This announcement caused great amusement, for Master Daly was as
innocent of a hair on his face as he was of being tattooed, and by the
manner in which he joined in the laughter he seemed to be quite aware of
the fact.

We sat down to supper in great good spirits. I was perhaps the least
cheerful, for all the others being friends, and I knowing only my two
fellow-clerks, I felt rather out of it. However, Doubleday, who seemed
to have an eye for everybody, soon put me at my ease with myself and the
rest.

What a meal it was! I hadn't tasted such a one since I came to London.
Eggs and sardines, lobster and potted meat; coffee and tea, toast, cake,
bread-and-butter--it was positively bewildering. And the laughing, and
talking, and chaffing that went on, too. Doubleday perfectly astonished
me by his talents as a host. He never ceased talking, and yet everybody
else talked too; he never ceased partaking, and took care that no one
else should either. He seemed to know by the outside of a cup whether
it was full or empty, and to be able to see through loaves and dish-
covers into everybody's plate. It would be impossible to say what was
not talked about during that wonderful meal. The private affairs of
Hawk Street were freely canvassed, and the private affairs of every one
of the company were discussed with the most charming frankness. I found
myself giving an account of my uncle to the Field-marshal, which
confidence he reciprocated by telling me that he was a private in the
volunteers (that was why the fellows called him Field-Marshal), and a