about my own age as far as I could gather, yet I never remembered having met him before. "'You don't remember me?' he asked. "'No,' I replied. "'Humph!' he rejoined, 'and yet at school you had quite a slap-up fight upon my behalf, which ought to have been a lesson to snobs in general, simply because I insisted upon talking to my own father when he was driving one of his own furniture vans.' "'Murkel Minor,' I murmured. 'Jove, yes, I remember.' "'Well, I'm a dealer now, got a place of my own, first-class antiques, you know, doing rather well, too.' "I nodded. "'But, I say, how about yourself? you don't look up to much. What are you doing? You know all the swell chaps at school, who always looked down on me, used to think you would do no end of things.' "Somehow or other a sudden feeling of utter frankness came over me. 'I am not doing anything,' I said. 'I've never done anything, and I don't believe now I ever shall do anything.' "'What are you supposed to do?' asked Murkel, and he asked it in rather a nice way. "'Writing,' I said. "'Books?' "'Yes, and stories, and any blessed thing that comes along; that is to say, when it _does_ come along.' "Murkel mused for awhile as we walked along, and to this day I do not know whether he considered he was paying off an old debt, or whether he really required my services. Anyway he told me he wanted a descriptive catalogue written of some of his best antiques, their history guaranteed and authenticated, and that he would pay me a fair sum for writing it.