The doctor's eyes smarted somewhat with the pungent tobacco-smoke, but when he became more accustomed to the cloudy atmosphere, he found himself in a long low-ceilinged room round which about fifteen men were seated on benches, smoking vigorously. On a long, deal table in the centre stood a number of pewter tankards containing beer and a large jug filled with the same generous beverage stood at the end. A kerosine lamp hung from the ceiling, diffusing a dull yellow light, and the floor was covered with saw-dust, with spittoons placed about. On the end of the table sat Reginald Blake, who was as dark as Pemberton was fair. A somewhat mournful countenance when in repose, but now sparkling with life and animation. Decidedly handsome, with an olive complexion, closely-cropped black hair and a small moustache of the same colour. As he sat there swinging his legs and showing his white teeth with every laugh, Nestley thought he was a very striking figure, although somewhat out of place in that homely room. "Looks like an Italian," he thought, looking at the tall, lithe figure as Reginald Blake slipped off the table to greet him. "Must have been born in the South, or perhaps he's a Greek born in England, like Keats." Dick Pemberton lost no time, but then and there introduced Nestley to his friend. "This is Dr. Nestley, Reggy--stranger here--got the blues, so I brought him here to see the fun." "Rather homely fun I'm afraid," said Blake holding out his hand with a frank smile. "I'm very pleased to see you, Dr. Nestley. You'll find this noisy but it's amusing." "What would the vicar say if he knew two of his pupils were here?" asked Nestley mischievously. Both the young men laughed heartily. "Oh, the dear old boy wouldn't mind," said Pemberton producing a cigar case, "he trusts us, besides, we work hard all the week and only get off the chain on Saturday nights." "Then," observed Reggy, helping himself to a cigar from his friend's case, "we study mankind----" "As seen in the public-house," finished the doctor smiling. "As seen in the public-house," assented Mr. Blake gravely, lighting his cigar. "Dick and myself are students of human nature." "It's great fun," observed Dick confidentially. "If we were in Town I've no doubt we'd go to a music hall, but here we amuse ourselves with rustic simplicity." "Said simplicity being mythical," said Blake satirically, "but the singing is amusing--I say Jarx," he added, raising his voice, "sing us that ditty of yours."