The drunken fellow seemed completely restored by his repose. He ate more than his share of the eggs and bacon, and drank five cups of tea. Then he stretched himself, lit a clay pipe, and offered us his tobacco box, from which the Reverend filled his briar. I remained true to my packet of “Queen of the Harem.” I shall think twice before chucking up cig. smoking as long as “Queen of the Harem” don’t go above tuppence-half-penny per ten. We were sitting there smoking in front of the fire—it was a shade parky for the time of year—and not talking a great deal, when the Reverend said to Blake, “Things are looking up on the canal, aren’t they, Tom?” “No,” said Blake; “things ain’t lookin’ up on the canal.” “Got a little house property,” said the Reverend, “to spend when you feel like it?” “No,” said the other; “I ain’t got no ’ouse property to spend.” “Ah.” said the Reverend, cheesing it, and sucking his pipe. “Dessay yer think I’m free with the rhino?” said Blake after a while. “I was only wondering,” said the Reverend. Blake stared first at the Reverend and then at me. “Ever remember a party of the name of Cloyster, Mr. James Orlebar Cloyster?” he inquired. “Yes,” we both said. “’E’s a good man,” said Blake. “Been giving you money?” asked the Reverend. “’E’s put me into the way of earning it. It’s the sorfest job ever I struck. ’E told me not to say nothin’, and I said as ’ow I wouldn’t. But it ain’t fair to Mr. Cloyster, not keeping of it dark ain’t. Yew don’t know what a noble ’eart that man’s got, an’ if you weren’t fren’ of ’is I couldn’t have told you. But as you are fren’s of ’is, as we’re all fren’s of ’is, I’ll take it on myself to tell you wot that noble-natured man is giving me money for. Blowed if ’e shall ’ide his bloomin’ light under a blanky bushel any longer.” And then he explained that for putting his name to a sheet or two of paper, and addressing a few envelopes, he was getting more money than he knew what to do with. “Mind you,” he said, “I play it fair. I only take wot he says I’m to take. The rest goes to ’im. My old missus sees to all that part of it ’cos she’s quicker at figures nor wot I am.” While he was speaking, I could hardly contain myself. The Reverend was listening so carefully to every word that I kept myself from interrupting; but when he’d got it off his chest, I clutched the Reverend’s arm, and said, “What’s it mean?” “Can’t say,” said he, knitting his brows. “Is he straight?” I said, all on the jump. “I hope so.” “‘Hope so.’ You don’t think there’s a doubt of it?” “I suppose not. But surely it’s very unselfish of you to be so concerned over Blake’s business.” “Blake’s business be jiggered,” I said. “It’s my business, too. I’m doing for Mister James Orlebar Cloyster exactly what Blake’s doing. And I’m making money. You don’t understand.”