For years and years this pleasant and touching custom has made Brockley historical. Lambeth awaking beerless, improvident Kennington greeting the thirsty dawn, Bermondsey confronted with the dull sad hours between breakfast time and 1 p.m.—all these in singleness of purpose and with a unity of thought, said with one voice "Brockley." Suddenly a new interest came to Brockley; call it a morbid interest if you will. It was sufficient, at any rate, to divert the stream that flowed past the cemetery to the hostel beyond. Sufficient to detach the stragglers at any rate, and draw them, with perplexed faces and sceptical expressions, to the neighbourhood of Kymott Crescent. There was a public spirited gentleman of Church Street, Deptford, whose wife worked at a jam factory. He himself spent the greater part of his life looking for work, but it never seemed to nestle in the dark interior of a quart pot, in which his searching eyes were for the greater part of the time concentrated. This person was, by name, Haggitt, but mostly he was called Olejoe—a name suggesting a Scandinavian origin, but, as a matter of fact, quite simply derived. Despite his chronic condition of unemployment, Olejoe possessed a "guv’nor," of whom he spoke in terms of affectionate pride. Sometimes, when Olejoe would be standing in the corner of the public bar—he used the George on Tanner’s Hill—within reach of the zinc counter on the one hand and the pipe spills on the other, an unshaven man would thrust his head in at the door and beckon Olejoe with a sharp impatient jerk of the head. Then Olejoe would issue hastily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Got a job of you," the guv’nor would say laconically, "602, Frien’ly Street—two munse rent—come along." So Olejoe would find himself the guest of poverty—plaintive weeping poverty, and Olejoe would keep jealous ward over two poundsworth of distrained furniture. How he came to be chosen for the rôle of guest to the Duke seems obvious enough. He was uncleanly. He had unpleasant habits. Hal chose him. When he arrived at 64, supported by the authority of a bailiff, Tuppy took charge of the proceedings. Tuppy had a wonderful knowledge of obscure procedure. First he demanded the bailiff’s license and examined it. Then he put the bailiff through an oral examination, then he demanded copies of the distress warrant, and generally harassed and badgered the unfortunate official until he was glad enough to make his escape leaving Olejoe in possession. Then followed a solemn conference with Olejoe the uneasy subject. Resolved: That Olejoe be bathed. (Protest lodged by Olejoe overruled.) Resolved: That Olejoe's clothes be burnt. (Protest overruled.) Resolved: That the cost of reclothing Olejoe should be borne by the Duke. (Carried without protest.)