“Look here, mate, don't you be afraid now! I'm on the reform lay with all my might, and I mean business. I ain't a-goin' to do you any harm, you bet your life. These your things?” he asked, taking Lemuel's winter suit from the hooks where they hung, and beginning to pull off his coat. He talked on while he changed his dress. “I was led away, and I got my come-uppings, or the other fellow's comeuppings, for _I_ wa'n't to blame any, and I always said so, and I guess the judge would say so too, if it was to do over again.” A frightful thought stung Lemuel to life. “The judge? Was it a passenger-ship?” The other stopped buttoning Lemuel's trousers round him to slap himself on the thigh. “Why, mate! don't you know enough to know what a _sea voyage_ is? Why, I've been down to the _Island_ for the last six months! Hain't you never heard it called a sea voyage? Why, we _always_ come off from a cruise when we git back! You don't mean to say you never _been_ one?” “Oh, my goodness!” groaned Lemuel. “Have--have you been in prison?” “Why, of course.” “Oh, what am I going to do?” whispered the miserable creature to himself. The other heard him. “Why, you hain't got to do anything! I'm on the reform, and you might leave everything layin' around loose, and I shouldn't touch it. Fact! You ask the ship's chaplain.” He laughed in the midst of his assertions of good resolutions, but sobered to the full extent, probably, of his face and nature, and tying Lemuel's cravat on at the glass, he said solemnly, “Mate, it's all right. I'm on the reform.” XXIII. Lemuel's friend entered upon his duties with what may also be called artistic zeal. He showed a masterly touch in managing the elevator from the first trip. He was ready, cheerful, and obliging; he lacked nothing but a little more reluctance and a Seaside Library novel to be a perfect elevator-boy. The ladies liked him at once; he was so pleasant and talkative, and so full of pride in Lemuel that they could not help liking him; and several of them promptly reached that stage of confidence where they told him, as an old friend of Lemuel's, they thought Lemuel read too much, and was going to kill himself if he kept on a great deal longer. The mate said he thought so too, and had noticed how bad Lemuel looked the minute he set eyes on him. But he asked what was the use? He had said everything he could to him about it. He was always just so, up at home. As he found opportunity he did what he could to console Lemuel with furtive winks and nods. Lemuel dragged absently and haggardly through the day. In the evening he told Mrs. Harmon that he had to go round and see Mr. Sewell a moment.