ry that you can't stoop down by the water's edge to wash your
filthy face and hands, eh?"

"Wash, sir?" said the lad piteously; "what's the good? Don't matter for
such as me. You don't know."

"Miserable wretch!" thought Frank; "what a horribly degraded state for a
poor fellow to be in." Then aloud: "Here, which will you have--the
biscuit or this?"

He held out a coin that would have bought many biscuits in one hand, the
broken piece in the other.

"Biscuit, please, gentleman," whined the lad. "I am so hungry, you
don't know."

"Take both," said Frank; and they were snatched from his hands.

"Oh, thank you, gentleman," whined the lad, as some one passed. "You
don't know what trouble is;" and he began to devour the biscuit
ravenously.

"Not know what trouble is!" cried Frank scornfully. "Do you think fine
clothes will keep that out? Oh, I don't know that I wouldn't change
places with you, after all."

"Poor old laddie!" said the youth, looking at him in a peculiar way, and
with his voice seeming changed by the biscuit in his mouth; "and I
thought he was enjoying himself, and feeding the ducks, and not caring a
bit."

"What!" exclaimed Frank wildly.

"Don't you know me, Frank?"

"Drew!"

"Then the disguise is as right as can be. Keep still. Nonsense! Don't
try to shake hands. Stand at a distance. There's no knowing who may be
watching you. Give me another biscuit. I am hungry, really. There, go
on feeding the ducks. How useful they are. Sort of co-conspirators,
innocent as they look. I'll sit down behind you as if watching you, and
I can talk when there's no one near."

Frank obeyed with his face working, and Drew Forbes threw himself on the
grass once more.

"Drew, old fellow, you make me feel sick."

"What, because I look such a dirty wretch?"

"No, no. I'm ill and faint, and it's horrible to see you like this."

"Yes; not much of a macaroni now."

"We--we were afraid you were dead."

"No; but I had a narrow squeak for my life. I and two more officers
escaped and rode for London. I only got here yesterday, dressed like
this, hoping to see you; but you did not come out."

"No; this is the first time I have been here since you left. How is the
wound?"

"Oh, pooh! that's well enough. Bit stiff, that's all. I say, is it all
real?"

"What?"

"Me being here dressed like this."

"Oh, it's horrible."

"Not it. Better than being chopped short, or hung. I am glad you'v