n playing the colonies for all they are worth!"

"Oh, I've lost my luggage," said he, "or a wave came into my cabin and
spoilt every stitch, or I had nothing fit to bring ashore. We'll
settle that in the train."

THE WRONG HOUSE

My brother Ralph, who now lived with me on the edge of Ham Common, had
come home from Australia with a curious affection of the eyes, due to
long exposure to the glare out there, and necessitating the use of
clouded spectacles in the open air. He had not the rich complexion of
the typical colonist, being indeed peculiarly pale, but it appeared
that he had been confined to his berth for the greater part of the
voyage, while his prematurely gray hair was sufficient proof that the
rigors of bush life had at last undermined an originally tough
constitution. Our landlady, who spoilt my brother from the first, was
much concerned on his behalf, and wished to call in the local doctor;
but Ralph said dreadful things about the profession, and quite
frightened the good woman by arbitrarily forbidding her ever to let a
doctor inside her door. I had to apologize to her for the painful
prejudices and violent language of "these colonists," but the old soul
was easily mollified. She had fallen in love with my brother at first
sight, and she never could do too much for him. It was owing to our
landlady that I took to calling him Ralph, for the first time in our
lives, on her beginning to speak of and to him as "Mr. Raffles."

"This won't do," said he to me. "It's a name that sticks."

"It must be my fault! She must have heard it from me," said I
self-reproachfully.

"You must tell her it's the short for Ralph."

"But it's longer."

"It's the short," said he; "and you've got to tell her so."

Henceforth I heard as much of "Mr. Ralph," his likes and dislikes, what
he would fancy and what he would not, and oh, what a dear gentleman he
was, that I often remembered to say "Ralph, old chap," myself.

It was an ideal cottage, as I said when I found it, and in it our
delicate man became rapidly robust. Not that the air was also ideal,
for, when it was not raining, we had the same faithful mist from
November to March. But it was something to Ralph to get any air at
all, other than night-air, and the bicycle did the rest. We taught
ourselves, and may I never forget our earlier rides, through and
through Richmond Park when the afternoons were shortest, upon the
incomparable Ripley Road wh