Dora had now been in the post-office six months, and had behaved so far in an exemplary manner. Even the girl’s stepmother, prone to find fault as she was on the slightest pretext, had not discovered anything to grumble at in Dora’s conduct. But now--now affairs were assuming a different complexion. Dora had made masculine friends unbeknown to her mother. One of them was a dissipated young doctor, and the other--well, who and what was this other man--this Mr Somers? "And do you, too, belong to the medical profession, Mr Somers?" inquired the dame. "No, I am a journalist," replied Koko. Miss Bird glanced up sharply; Mr Cleave also looked across at the visitor. Miss Bird had not been introduced to Mr Somers, but she did not allow little obstacles of that kind to stand in her way when she required information. "And what is your particular department?" she abruptly demanded. "I work for the sporting press--I am what is known as a sporting journalist," replied Koko. The inquisitive expression on Miss Bird’s face turned into a stony glare of disapproval. "You go to horse-races?" Koko did not like being cross-examined about his private affairs in this unblushing manner. So he determined to let this rude old lady know all about himself so as to save further questions. "Yes, I attend horse-races and swimming-matches, and billiard-matches and prize-fights----" "Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" roared Miss Bird. As for Mr Cleave, he uttered a thin, high cough. He had heard that the average journalist did his work with a bottle of brandy at his elbow--what then must a journalist be like who reported prize-fights and horse-races! What indeed! With a sigh he sought distraction in the long list of "Homes for Inebriates" which appeared regularly in _The Total Abstainer_. This weekly journal was Mr Cleave’s invariable comforter when he felt distressed. Besides, it offered £100 insurance in the event of one of its regular subscribers being accidentally killed. Several of Mr Cleave’s nearest relatives took in the paper, and Mr Cleave had often calculated what amount he would receive as insurance should all these relatives be killed in one railway accident. "I believe," Miss Bird went on (as Koko made no rejoinder), "that drunkenness is a common vice among persons working for the press. Is that not so, Mr Cleave?" "Pardon?" queried Cleave, putting his hand to his ear. "Bless the man!" exclaimed Miss Bird, irritated beyond measure, "why doesn’t he get an ear-trumpet! I was saying," she continued, in a boisterous key, "that most journalists were drunkards. Is that not so?" Now, Mr Cleave recollected Mr Maybury’s stern rebuke of the previous evening, so he deemed it as well to be cautious. "_Some_ journalists," he replied, nodding pleasantly at Miss Bird. "_Most!_" insisted Miss Bird. "I will not go so far as to say that----" quavered Mr Cleave.