But the boy Chops returned almost immediately. 'Which I told Skeleton,' he said touching his forelock with his left hand by way of salute, 'to bring yer a cup o' nice tea, sir, an' breakfus is at eight; an' I brought ye these, as I doesn't like to see a gent in 'is stockin'-soles like, an' mayblins ye 'asn't got another pair o' shoes to yer name. These will fit, sir, I thinks, thinks I.' Antony had been standing in the back-door of the caravan, looking out upon the brightness of a beautiful morning and the sunlight on the sea. As the boy spoke he deposited a pair of huge, ungainly yellow slippers close beside the young man's dainty feet. Antony glanced but once at them and stepped back, almost appalled. 'Goodness!' he cried. 'What are these? Take the horrid--er--take them away, boy.' 'A pair o' slippers wot belongs to the boss, sir. Oh, I'm sure 'e wouldn't mind yer awearin' of 'em. Boss ain't a bad sort--sometimes.' 'There, there, you're a thoughtful lad, I'm sure; but--er--if you don't mind, I'll wait for my boots.' 'Gemman wants ter see ye, sir,' said Chops a minute after. The 'gemman' was the porter from the station, carrying Frank Antony's bag on his left shoulder. He was smiling and pleasant, quite in keeping with the sunny morning. 'I thank you, porter. This is ever so kind of you.' 'First train no' due yet, captain, for an hour and mair. Thought ye might be needin' something oot o' the bag, and so here it is. No, as sure as death, I'll no' tak' a penny. Weel, captain, as you are so pressin'. Thanks; and I'll drink your very good health as soon's the train's oot o' the station.' The porter had barely gone ere Skeleton hove in sight with a small tray and the morning cup of tea. Skeleton was very tall, very thin, and so sloping were his shoulders that his jacket seemed slipping off him. His poor face was like that of a snipe, and his eyes the eyes of an owl; two little spots of red were on his high cheek-bones. No need to be told that this was the Living Skeleton of Biffins Lee's 'Queerest Show on Earth.' 'Are you very ill, poor fellow?' 'What, me? No, sir, I'm first chop. Could get stout in three weeks.' 'Then, for pity's sake, take a three weeks' holiday and fill yourself out.' 'What, me? And spoil the whole show, and lose my income?' His voice was like that of some one speaking up from a vault. 'I know what you 're thinking, sir.' 'Well?' 'I could see your lips moving, and you seemed to be mumbling a morsel of the Immortal William to yourself. Would you like to have a look at my wife, sir?' Antony was sitting on a camp-stool, enjoying his tea. 'No, I don't want to have a look at her. What should I want to have a look at your wife for?' 'Oh, she would please you all to pieces.--Mary, my sweet little darling,' he cried, 'flutter this way a moment that our newly come Gipsy King may feast his optics on thy fairy form.' And Mary did flutter in sight, and presently stood beside Skeleton, smiling and comely.