in the strict scale of precedence of the Drapery
Emporium. Mr. Hoopdriver in alternating spasms anon straightens his
gingham and anon becomes meditative, with his tongue in the hollow of
his decaying wisdom tooth.

III

At supper that night, holiday talk held undisputed sway. Mr. Pritchard
spoke of "Scotland," Miss Isaacs clamoured of Bettws-y-Coed, Mr. Judson
displayed a proprietary interest in the Norfolk Broads. "I?" said
Hoopdriver when the question came to him. "Why, cycling, of course."

"You're never going to ride that dreadful machine of yours, day after
day?" said Miss Howe of the Costume Department.

"I am," said Hoopdriver as calmly as possible, pulling at the
insufficient moustache. "I'm going for a Cycling Tour. Along the South
Coast."

"Well, all I hope, Mr. Hoopdriver, is that you'll get fine weather,"
said Miss Howe. "And not come any nasty croppers."

"And done forget some tinscher of arnica in yer bag," said the junior
apprentice in the very high collar. (He had witnessed one of the lessons
at the top of Putney Hill.)

"You stow it," said Mr. Hoopdriver, looking hard and threateningly
at the junior apprentice, and suddenly adding in a tone of bitter
contempt,--"Jampot."

"I'm getting fairly safe upon it now," he told Miss Howe.

At other times Hoopdriver might have further resented the satirical
efforts of the apprentice, but his mind was too full of the projected
Tour to admit any petty delicacies of dignity. He left the supper table
early, so that he might put in a good hour at the desperate gymnastics
up the Roehampton Road before it would be time to come back for locking
up. When the gas was turned off for the night he was sitting on the edge
of his bed, rubbing arnica into his knee--a new and very big place--and
studying a Road Map of the South of England. Briggs of the "dresses,"
who shared the room with him, was sitting up in bed and trying to smoke
in the dark. Briggs had never been on a cycle in his life, but he felt
Hoopdriver's inexperience and offered such advice as occurred to him.

"Have the machine thoroughly well oiled," said Briggs, "carry one or
two lemons with you, don't tear yourself to death the first day, and sit
upright. Never lose control of the machine, and always sound the bell on
every possible opportunity. You mind those things, and nothing very much
can't happen to you, Hoopdriver--you take my word."

He would lapse into silence for a minute, save perhap