'Must go now and fetch out th' old hoss for a trifle of haulage; an' when I get back I must clean meself an' shift for night-school--me bein' due early there to fetch up leeway.

You see," he explained, "bein' on the move wi' the boats most o' my time, I don't get the same chances as the other fellows.

So when I hauls ashore, as we call it, I 'ave to make up lost time." "A student, I declare!" Mr.Mortimer saluted him.

Rising from the steps of the caravan, he rubbed a hand down his trouser-leg and extended it.
"Permit me to grasp, sir, the horny palm of self-improvement.

A scholar in humble life! and--as your delicacy in this small matter of the saucepan sufficiently attests--one of Nature's gentlemen to boot! I prophesy that you will go far, Mr.Bossom.