Tempest--" I began.
"Oh, I've got one--a beauty--young Trimble; he sat next to you at register to-day.

You'll hit it off with him to a T.

Talking of tea, by the way, it's time we showed up at Pridgin's.

Come along, and I'll introduce you." The reader may not believe it, but my interview with Tempest helped to knock the nonsense out of me more than any treatment I had yet undergone.

It was not so much the caning (which, by the way, I afterwards discovered to be a wholly unauthorised proceeding on my old comrade's part), but his plain advice, and the friendly way in which it was all given.