I'm so awfully weak-minded, I'm not fit to be trusted alone." "Hullo, I say," whispered Horace, suddenly stopping short in his walk, "who's that fellow sneaking about there by the editor's door ?" "He looks precious like Durfy," said Gedge; "I believe it is he." "What does he want there, I wonder--he wasn't on the late shift to- night, was he ?" "No; he went at seven." "I don't see what he wants hanging about when everybody's gone," said Horace.
"Unless he's screwed and can't get home--I've known him like that.

That fellow's not screwed, though," he added; "see, he's heard some one coming, and he's off steady enough on his legs." "Rum," said Horace.

"It looked like Durfy, too.

Never mind, whoever it is, we've routed him out this time.

Good-night, old man; don't go down on your luck, mind, and don't go abusing Reg behind his back, and don't forget you're booked to come home to supper with me on Monday, and see my mother.