ppy as a king.

It was in this boy's society that during those wretched weeks I found a
painful consolation. He was constantly reminding me of what I was not;
but for all that I felt he was a better companion than the heroes with
whom I used to associate, and with whom I still occasionally consorted.
He knew nothing of my trouble, and thought I was the crossest-grained,
slowest growler in existence. But since I chose his company, and seemed
glad to have him beside me, he was delighted.

"I say," said he suddenly one evening, as we were engaged in
experimenting with a small steam-engine he had lately become the proud
possessor of, "I saw your old friend Smith to-day!"

"Where?" I asked.

"Why, down Drury Lane. I heard of a new Russian stamp that was to be
had cheap in a shop there, and while I was in buying it he came in."

"Was he buying stamps too?"

"No; he lives in a room over the shop. Not a nice hole, I should fancy.
Didn't you know he was there?"

"No," I said.

"Oh, you should go and see the place. He'd much better come back here,
tell him. But I thought you saw one another every day?" he added, in
his simple way.

"Did he say anything to you?" I asked, avoiding the question.

"Yes. I asked him how he was getting on, and he said very well; and I
asked him what he thought of the Russian stamp; and he said if I liked
he could get me a better specimen at his office. Isn't he a brick? and
he's promised me a jolly Turkish one, too, that I haven't got."

"Was that all?" I asked. "I mean all he said?"

"Yes--oh, and I asked if he'd got any message for you, and he said no.
Look, there--it's going! I say, isn't it a stunning little engine? I
mean to make it work a little pump I've got in the greenhouse at home.
It's just big enough."

Any message for me? No! Was it worth trying for any longer? I
thought, as once more I crept solitary and disappointed to bed.

But the answer was nearer than I thought for.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

HOW I TOOK PART IN A NOT VERY SUCCESSFUL HOLIDAY PARTY.

Several weeks elapsed, and I was beginning to doubt whether Hawkesbury's
advice, after all, was good, when a general holiday occurred to break
the monotony of my life both at Hawk Street and Beadle Square.

I had for some time meditated, if I had the funds, taking advantage of
my next holiday to run down to my uncle's. Not that I expected any
particular welcome from him, but I longed to see the old f