The ingratitude of Mr.Silk was a rebuff to a nature which was at that moment overflowing with good will.

For a moment the steward was half inclined to let him go home alone, but the reflection that he would never get there softened him.
"Pull yourself t'gether," he said, gravely, "Now, 'old on me." The road, as they walked, rose up in imitation of the shipping, but Mr.
Wilks knew now the explanation: Teddy Silk was intoxicated.

Very gently he leaned towards the erring youth and wagged his head at him.
"Are you going to hold up or aren't you ?" demanded Mr.Silk, shortly.
The steward waived the question; he knew from experience the futility of arguing with men in drink.

The great thing was to get Teddy Silk home, not to argue with him.

He smiled good-temperedly to himself, and with a sudden movement pinned him up against the wall in time to arrest another` fall.
[Illustration: "The great thing was to get Teddy Silk home."] With frequent halts by the way, during which the shortness of Mr.Silk's temper furnished Mr.Wilks with the texts of several sermons, none of which he finished, they at last reached Fullalove Alley, and the steward, with a brief exhortation to his charge to hold his head up, bore down on Mrs.Silk, who was sitting in her doorway.
"I've brought 'im 'ome," he said, steadying himself against the doorpost; "brought 'im 'ome." "Brought 'im 'ome ?" said the bewildered Mrs.Silk.
"Don' say anything to 'im," entreated Mr.Wilks, "my sake.