incurred as they went along. Lefroy was
very anxious to stay for a week in town. It would, no doubt, have been
two weeks or a month had his companion given way;--but on this matter a
line of conduct had been fixed by Mr. Peacocke in conjunction with the
Doctor from which he never departed. "If you will not be guided by me, I
will go without you," Mr. Peacocke had said, "and leave you to follow your
own devices on your own resources."

"And what can you do by yourself?"

"Most probably I shall be able to learn all that I want to learn. It may
be that I shall fail to learn anything either with you or without you. I
am willing to make the attempt with you if you will come along at
once;--but I will not be delayed for a single day. I shall go whether you
go or stay." Then Lefroy had yielded, and had agreed to be put on board a
German steamer starting from Southampton to New York.

But an hour or two before the steamer started he made a revelation. "This
is all gammon, Peacocke," he said, when on board.

"What is all gammon?"

"My taking you across to the States."

"Why is it gammon?"

"Because Ferdinand died more than a year since;--almost immediately after
you took her off."

"Why did you not tell me that at Bowick?"

"Because you were so uncommon uncivil. Was it likely I should have told
you that when you cut up so uncommon rough?"

"An honest man would have told me the very moment that he saw me."

"When one's poor brother has died, one does not blurt it like that all at
once."

"Your poor brother!"

"Why not my poor brother as well as anybody else's? And her husband too!
How was I to let it out in that sort of way? At any rate he is dead as
Julius Caesar. I saw him buried,--right away at 'Frisco."

"Did he go to San Francisco?"

"Yes,--we both went there right away from St. Louis. When we got up to
St. Louis we were on our way with them other fellows. Nobody meant to
disturb you; but Ferdy got drunk, and would go and have a spree, as he
called it."

"A spree, indeed!"

"But we were off by train to Kansas at five o'clock the next morning. The
devil wouldn't keep him sober, and he died of D.T. the day after we got
him to 'Frisco. So there's the truth of it, and you needn't go to New
York at all. Hand me the dollars. I'll be off to the States; and you can
go back and marry the widow,--or leave her alone, just as you please."

They were down below when this story was told, sitting on