he would go into the
town and try to find work at his own trade; but he had begun to learn
that he was born to drift, and he drifted. His clothes were brought to
him clean and dry, and he turned the false cuffs and the collar he wore,
so that he made himself in his own way sufficiently presentable, and
just as he had finished dressing Pauer came into his room. There was a
plentiful breakfast downstairs, and it was of a better quality than the
aspect of the house might have seemed to warrant Paul did fall justice
to it, and when the cloth was cleared Darco laid writing materials on
the table. He said that his sight was failing, and that he had been
advised to rest his eyes as much as possible. He would be obliged if
Paul would write a letter for him from dictation. He dictated a lengthy
business letter setting forth the terms on which he was willing to
accept the management of a theatrical provincial tour, and when it was
finished he asked Pauer to read it.

'That's all right,' said Pauer. 'Good legible fist. Well spelled.
Punctuation and capitals all right.'

'Ferry well,' said Darco. 'If the younk man wants a chop, I can give him
one. Dwenty shillings a veek, and meals at the mittle of the tay.'

'What is the work?' Paul asked.

'To be my brivate zecretary,' said Darco, 'and to dravel with me through
the gountry.'

'When am I to begin?'

'Now,' said Darco.

Paul sat down at the table, and his new employer dictated a great number
of letters to him, all offering engagements to ladies and gentlemen, at
salaries ranging from one pound to four pounds ten.

'What's all that for, George?' asked Pauer, who was sitting idly smoking
by the fire.

'That is for Golding,' Darco announced. 'Younk Evans takes the
management, but I haf the gontrol.'

'Getting your hands pretty full, ain't you, George?'

'Ah!' said Darco. 'Vait till I get my London theatre. I should haf been
in London lonk ako if it had not been for Barton. He gild the boots that
lace the golden legs.'

'What did he do?' asked Pauer.

'Gild the boots that lace the golden legs.'

'Killed the goose that lays the golden eggs, do you mean?'

'Man alife!' ejaculated Darco. 'I zaid zo.'

'You said distinctly,' said Pauer, '"gild the boots that lace the golden
legs."'

'Ferry well,' said Darco. 'I zay zo. Vot _are_ you talking apout?'

Pauer looked at his watch.

'I must settle up and march, George,' he said 'If you carry that
business through, let