cuffs of his jacket, and held the blotting-paper against each in turn as he looked across at me.

“’Tain’t crying,” he said. “Only water. Ketch him making me cry!”

“You were crying,” I said, quietly.

“No, I wasn’t. Don’t you get turning again’ me too. Take a better man than him to make me cry.”

I laughed.

“Ah, you may grin,” grumbled my companion; “but just you have your head knocked again’ the desk, and just you see if it wouldn’t make your eyes water.”

At that moment the door was opened with a snatch.

“Silence there! You, Gordon, will you go on with your work?”

The door was banged before I could have answered. Not that I should have said anything. But as soon as the door clicked Esau went on again without subduing his voice—

“I ain’t afraid of him—cheating old knocktioneer! Thinks he’s a right to knock everybody down ’cause he’s got a licence.”

“Go on with your work,” I whispered, “or he’ll come back.”

“Let him; I don’t care. I ain’t afraid. It was all your fault for going out.”

“And yours for being asleep.”

“I can’t help my head being heavy. Mother says it’s because I’ve got so much brains. But I’ll serve him out. I’ll make all the mistakes I can, and he’ll have to pay for them being corrected.”

“What good will that do?”

“I dunno; but I’ll serve him out. He shan’t hit me. I say, what did you go out to buy?”

“Nothing. I went out to speak to that gentleman who came.”

“What gentleman who came?”

“While you were asleep.”

“There you go! You’re as bad as old Knock-’em-down. Fellow’s only got to shut his eyes, and you say he’s asleep. But I don’t care. Everybody’s again’ me, but I’ll serve ’em out.”

“You’d better go on with your writing.”

“Shan’t. Go on with yours. I know. I’ll ’list—that’s what I’ll do. Like to see old Going-going touch me then!”

There was a busy interval of writing, during which something seemed to ask me why I let Mr Dempster behave so brutally to me, and I began wondering whether I was a coward. I felt that I could not be as brave as Esau, or I should have resisted.

“Not half a chap, you ain’t!” said my companion, suddenly.

“Why?”

“You’d say you’d come with me. Deal better to be soldiers than always scrawling down Lot 104 on paper.”

“I don’t want to be a soldier,” I said.

“No; you’re not half a chap. Only wait a bit. I’d ha’ gone long ago if it hadn’t been for mother.”

“Yes; she wouldn’t like you to go.”

“How do you know?”

“Mrs Dean told me so. She said you were mad about red-coats.”

“That’s just like mother,” said Esau, with a grin, “allus wrong. I don’t want to wear a red coat. Blue’s my colour.”

“What—a sailor?” I said quickly.

“Get out! Sailor! all tar and taller. I’m not going to pull ropes. I mean blue uniform—’Tillery—Horse Artillery. They do look fine. I’ve seen ’em lots o’ times.”

“Here, you two, I’m going out. I shall be back in five minutes,” said Mr Dempster, so suddenly that he made us both start. “Look sharp and get that work done.”

He stood drawing a yellow silk handkerchief round and round his hat, which was already as bright as it could be made, and then setting it on very much on one side, he gave his silk umbrella a flourish, touched his diamond pin with the tip of his well-gloved finger, and strutted out.

“Back in five minutes! Yah!” cried Esau. “It’s all gammon about being honest and getting on.”

“No, it isn’t,” I said, as I carefully dotted a few i’s.

“Yes, it is. Look at him—makes lots o’ money, and he cheats people and tells more lies in a day than I’ve told in all my life.”

“Nonsense!”

“Tain’t. He’s a regular bad ’un. Back in five minutes! Why he won’t come till it’s time to go, and then he’ll keep us waiting so as to get all the work he can out of us.”

But that time Esau was wrong, for in about five minutes the outer door was opened, and our employer thrust in his head.

“There’s a letter on my table to post, Gordon,” he said. “Be sure it goes.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, and as the door closed again I looked at Esau and laughed.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” he said. “That wasn’t coming back. He only looked in to see if we were at work. I shan’t stop here; I shall ’list.”

“No, you will not,” I said, as I went on writing quietly.

“Oh, yes, I shall. You can go on lodging with the old woman, for you won’t be the chap to come with me.”

“You won’t go,” I said.

“Ah, you’ll see. You don’t mean to stop here, do you, and be bullied and knocked about?”

I went on writing and thinking of how dearly I should have liked to go somewhere else, for my life was very miserable with Mr Dempster; but I always felt as if it would be cowardly to give up, and I had stayed on, though that day’s experience was very like those which had gone before.

We had both finished our tasks an hour before Mr Dempster returned, nearly an hour after closing time, and even then he spent a long time in criticising the writing and finding fault, concluding by ordering Esau to go round with the catalogue he had made out to the printer’s.

“There’s a master for you!” cried my fellow-clerk, as we went up into the main street. “I shan’t stand it. I’m going for a soldier.”

I laughed.

“Ah, you may grin at what I say, but wait a bit. Going home?”

“No,” I said, “I shall walk round with you to the printer’s.”

He gave me a quick bright look, and his manner changed as if, once free of the office, he felt boy-like and happy. He whistled, hummed over bits of songs, and chatted about the various things we passed, till we had been at the printer’s, and then had to retrace our steps so as to cross Blackfriars Bridge, and reach Camberwell, where in a narrow street off the Albany Road Esau’s mother rented a little house, working hard with her needle to produce not many shillings a week, which were supplemented by her boy’s earnings, and the amount I paid for my bed, breakfast, and tea.

It was my fellow-clerk’s proposal that I should join them, and I had good cause to be grateful, the place being delightfully clean, and little, quaint, homely Mrs Dean looking upon me as a lodger who was to be treated with the greatest of respect.

“Shan’t go for a soldier to-night!” said Esau, throwing himself back in his chair, after we had finished our tea.

“I should think not indeed,” cried his mother. “Esau, I’m ashamed of you for talking like that. Has he been saying anything about it to you, Master Gordon?”

“Oh, yes, but he don’t mean it,” I replied. “It’s only when he’s cross.”

“Has master been scolding him then again?”

“Scolding?” cried Esau scornfully, “why he never does nothing else.”

“Then you must have given him cause, Esau dear. Master Gordon, what had he done?”

“Mr Dempster caught him asleep.”

“Well, I couldn’t help it. My head was so heavy.”

“Yes,” sighed Mrs Dean, “his head always was very heavy, poor boy. He goes to sleep at such strange times too, sir.”

“Well, don’t tell him that, mother,” cried Esau. “You tell everybody.”

“Well, dear, there’s no harm in it. I never said it was your fault. Lots of times, Master Gordon, I’ve known him go to sleep when at play, and once I found him quite fast with his mouth full of bread and butter.”

“Such stuff!” grumbled Esau, angrily.

“It is quite true, Master Gordon. He always was a drowsy boy.”

“Make anybody drowsy to keep on writing lots and figures,” grumbled Esau.