here they watched a squad of recruits at
drill; thence to the Barbican, where the trawling-fleet lay packed
like herring, and the shops were full of rope and oilskin suits and
marine instruments, and dirty children rolled about the roadway
between the legs of seabooted fishermen; and so up to the town again,
where he lingered in the most obliging manner while the boys stared
into the fishing-tackle shops and toy shops. On the way he led them
up a narrow passage and into a curious room, where fifteen or twenty
men were drinking, and talking at the top of their voices. The most
of them seemed to know Sir Harry well and greeted him with an odd
mixture of respect and familiarity. Their talk was full of
mysterious names and expressions, and Taffy thought at first they
must be Freemasons. "The Moor point-to-point was a walk-over for the
Milkman; Lapidary was scratched, which left it a soft thing, unless
Sir Harry fancied a fox-catcher like Nursery Governess, in which
case Billy behind the bar would do as much business as he liked at
six-to-one." After a while Taffy discovered they were talking about
horses, and wondered why they should meet to discuss horses in a
dingy room up a back yard. "Youngster of yours is growin',
Surrarry," said a red-faced man. "Who's his stable companion?" Taffy
was introduced, and to his embarrassment Sir Harry began to relate
his ridiculous mistake at lunch. The men roared with laughter.

He made another, quite as ridiculous, at the pastry-cook's where Sir
Harry ordered tea. "What'll you take with it? Call for what you
like, only don't poison yourselves." Taffy referring his gaze from
the buns and confections on the counter to the card in his hands,
which was inscribed with words in unknown tongues, made a bold plunge
and announced that he would take a "_marasheno_."

This tickled Sir Harry mightily. He ordered the waitress with a wink
to "bring the young gentleman a _marasheno_"; and Taffy, who had
expected something in the shape of a macaroon, was confronted with a
tiny glass of a pale liquor, which, when tasted, in the most
surprising manner put sunshine into his stomach and brought tears
into his eyes. But under Sir Harry's quizzical gaze he swallowed it
down bravely, and sat gasping and blinking.

It may have been that the maraschino induced a haze upon the rest of
the afternoon. The gas-lamps were lit when they left the
pastry-cook's and entered a haberdasher's where Taffy,