xplanation. I have felt for a long time
that something would have to be done; I've been going on in a most
uncomfortable manner. In spite of my continual remonstrances, I _could_
not persuade you to work. You must have recognised that you contained
two men: the one indolent, dreamy, always carried away by the pleasures
or caprice of the moment--a feather-brain. The other: ambitious,
clear-headed, and eager for work. Your part would give my part no
chance. Very well; we are partly separated. That is all. Partly
separated."

The dreamer sat down and stared. "I don't understand," he said.

"No more time will be lost," the worker went on. "I have begun to work.
For some time past I have been working at night--I am not going to stand
it any longer."

"That's what made me so heavy in the morning, then?"

"That was the cause. Now, however, I am going to work in earnest, and
all day long."

"I don't care, if it's real; but this is a dream. I don't care so long
as I needn't work with you. But, I say, what will the men say? I can't
pretend to have a twin, all of a sudden."

"N--no. Besides, there are other difficulties. We belong to each other,
you see. We must share these rooms. Listen, I have quite thought it out.
At night we shall be one; at breakfast and in the Hall we will be one;
you shall give me the entire use of these rooms all day and all the
evening for work. In examinations of course you will remain here locked
in, while I go to the Senate House. You will go to chapel for both."

"N--no. Chapel must belong to you."

"I say you will go to chapel for both." This with resolution.

"Oh!" the other Half gave way, "But what am I to do all day?"

"I'm sure I don't know. Do what you like. If you like to stay here you
can. You may play or sing. You may read your French novels; you will not
disturb me. But if you bring any of your friends here it will be
awkward, because they will perceive that you are double. Now we will go
to bed. It is half-past two."

IV.

In the morning Will awoke with a strange sense of something. This
feeling of something is not uncommon with young gentlemen who go to bed
about three. He got up and dressed. A cup of tea made him remember but
imperfectly what had happened. "I must have had too much whisky," he
murmured. "I saw myself--actually myself--hard at work." Here his eyes
fell upon the table. There were the books--books on Political
Economy--with a note-book and every indication o