“I might recite ‘The boy stood on the burning deck’ at a pinch. ‘The boy stood on the burning deck, whence all but he had fled.’ That’s all I know, but I can do that bit with action if you like. ‘The boy stood on the burning deck’—whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—(the flames, you see) ‘Whence all but he had fled’—for that bit I run to and fro like a dog.” Miss Taylor screamed with laughter. “Oh, do look at Mr. Cade! Isn’t he funny?” “Time for morning tea,” said Anthony briskly. “Come this way. There is an excellent café in the next street.” “I presume,” said Mrs. Caldicott, in her deep voice, “that the expense is included in the Tour?” “Morning tea, Mrs. Caldicott,” said Anthony, assuming his professional manner, “is an extra.” “Disgraceful.” “Life is full of trials, isn’t it?” said Anthony cheerfully. Mrs. Caldicott’s eyes gleamed, and she remarked with the air of one springing a mine: “I suspected as much, and in anticipation I poured off some tea into a jug at breakfast this morning! I can heat that up on the spirit lamp. Come, father.” Mr. and Mrs. Caldicott sailed off triumphantly to the hotel, the lady’s back complacent with successful forethought. “Oh, Lord,” muttered Anthony, “what a lot of funny people it does take to make a world.” He marshalled the rest of the party in the direction of the café. Miss Taylor kept by his side, and resumed her catechism. “Is it a long time since you saw your friend?” “Just over seven years.” “Was it in Africa you knew him?” “Yes, not this part though. The first time I ever saw Jimmy McGrath, he was all trussed up ready for the cooking pot. Some of the tribes in the interior are cannibals, you know. We got there just in time.” “What happened?” “Very nice little shindy. We potted some of the beggars, and the rest took to their heels.” “Oh, Mr. Cade, what an adventurous life you must have led!” “Very peaceful, I assure you.” But it was clear that the lady did not believe him. * * * * * It was about ten o’clock that night when Anthony Cade walked into the small room where Jimmy McGrath was busy manipulating various bottles. “Make it strong, James,” he implored. “I can tell you, I need it.” “I should think you did, my boy. I wouldn’t take on that job of yours for anything.” “Show me another, and I’ll jump out of it fast enough.” McGrath poured out his own drink, tossed it off with a practised hand and mixed a second one. Then he said slowly: “Are you in earnest about that, old son?” “About what?” “Chucking this job of yours if you could get another?” “Why? You don’t mean to say that you’ve got a job going begging? Why don’t you grab it yourself?” “I have grabbed it—but I don’t much fancy it, that’s why I’m trying to pass it on to you.” Anthony became suspicious. “What’s wrong with it? They haven’t engaged you to teach in a Sunday school, have they?” “Do you think anyone would choose me to teach in a Sunday school?”