ly his father went that far with him. All the other good-byes were said at the railway-station, and there was such a commonplace aspect about that, that he could scarcely realise how final they were; and, in fact, Chrissy and he had a little sparring at the last moment, because they had met Bessie Prissack on their way down the High Street, and Chrissy had commented upon her with true feminine inconsistency as a prim little old maid, who had just put herself in the way to see the last of Harry (as if Harry would think any the worse of her for that!), and he had retorted that Bessie was a real good girl, and one of the sort that grow handsomer every year they live.
But it was a very different thing when he shook hands with his father in the London Docks. That was the close of a prolonged agony; for, through some delay about the pilot, the starting of the vessel was delayed hours, during which time there was nothing to do but to wander up and down among leaky barrels, with last words all spoken, and a gh