Burroughs was vastly relieved when he learnt that Reinhardt was not permanently stationed in Shanghai. The German was in charge of a branch establishment of his firm at Sui-Fu, a populous treaty port many miles up the river, and paid only occasional visits to head-quarters. Errington never alluded to him, and Burroughs felt that he had perhaps been a little over-hasty in misjudging a mere shipboard acquaintance. His uneasiness returned, however, when, during a visit of a fortnight in Shanghai, Reinhardt invited Errington to several card-parties, from which he returned flushed and excited. Remembering the result of his former expostulation, Burroughs said nothing; he felt that he could not play the grandmother with his friend; but his disapproval was easily seen, and for a day or two there was a slight coolness between them. One day Mr. Ting met Errington in the street as if by chance: in reality he had waylaid him. "Getting on nicely?" he said. "First chop," replied Errington, with a laugh: he had picked up some pidgin English. "That is good. You have many flends," said the Chinaman. "Good flends are a delight in plospelity, and a stay in advessity. Bad flends--but of course you have none. Leinhadt is, of course, no flend of yours." "I rather think he is," said Errington, nettled at once. "Why do you say that?" "Well, you may eat with a flend, and talk to a flend, and play cards with flends, at home; but the men you play cards with away from home, they are not often flends." "Look here, Mr. Ting, I don’t understand what you are driving at. I play cards with Mr. Reinhardt: you seem to know it; have you got anything to say against it? Is he a card-sharper? Has he swindled you or any one else? If he has, you’d better say so, and then I shall know what to do." "He has not swindled me, or any one else, that I can prove." "Well then," cried the lad hotly, "I’ll thank you to mind your own business. You bored me with your sermons when I was a kid at school; but I’m no longer a schoolboy, and I tell you flatly I won’t be watched and preached at by you, if you were ten times my father’s friend. I’m quite able to take care of myself." "I could wish nothing better," said the Chinaman quietly. "I was your father’s flend, and I hope I shall always be yours." Errington had already repented of his outburst, and Mr. Ting’s dignified reception of it made him feel ashamed of himself. "Of course you are," he said. "I was always a hot-tempered brute; I’m sorry." And the two parted on the best of terms. After about a year, when both Errington and Burroughs had began to get a grip of their work, the former came home from the office one evening, and seeking his chum in the little den they shared, said in a tone of elation-- "I say, old man, I’m getting on. They’re going to raise my screw and transfer me to Sui-Fu. "Under Reinhardt?" asked Burroughs quickly.