ng it into your own."

For an instant a shade of vexation crossed his face, but directly
afterwards he laughed again in his usual amused manner.

"You forget," said he, "I live at home, and haven't the chance of
following Doubleday's example, even if I wished to. In fact, I'm a
domestic character."

He seemed to forget that he had frequently accepted Doubleday's
hospitality and joined in the festivities of the "usual lot."

"I thought you lived at your uncle's?" said I.

"Oh, no! My father's rectory is in Lambeth. But we're just going to
move into the City. I don't enjoy the prospect, I can assure you! But
I say, how are you and your friend Smith getting on now?"

He was always asking me about my friend Smith.

"The same as usual," said I.

"That's a pity! He really seems very unreasonable, considering he has
so little to be proud of."

"It's I that have got little to be proud of," replied I.

"Really, Batchelor, you are quite wrong there. I think it's very
generous the way you have always stuck to him--with certainly not much
encouragement."

"Well," said I, "I shall have another attempt to make it up with him."

Hawkesbury mused a bit, and then said, smilingly, "Of course, it's a
very fine thing of you; but do you know, Batchelor, I'm not sure that
you are wise in appearing to be in such a hurry?"

"What do you mean?" I said.

"I mean, I shall be as glad as any one to see you two friends again: but
if you seem too eager about it, I fancy you would only be demeaning
yourself, and giving him a fresh chance of repulsing you. My advice as
a friend is, wait a bit. As long as he sees you unhappy about it he
will have a crow over you. Let him see you aren't so greatly afflicted,
and then, take my word for it, he'll come a good deal more than half way
to meet you."

There seemed to be something in this specious advice. I might, after
all, be defeating my own ends by seeming too anxious to make it up with
Jack Smith, and so making a reconciliation more difficult in the end. I
felt inclined, at any rate, to give it a trial.

But the weeks that followed were wretched weeks. I heard daily and
regularly from Billy all the news I could gather of my friend, but
before Smith himself I endeavoured to appear cheerful and easy in mind.
It was a poor show. How could I seem cheerful when every day I was
feeling my loss more and more?

My only friends at this time were Hawkesbury and Billy and young
Lar