on the stiff outstretched cork limb; and then they turned away.

Meanwhile my mother had softly risen, and under pretence of looking for
her work on the table near him, bent over the old soldier and pressed
his hand.

"Gentlemen," said my father, "I don't think my brother ever heard of
Nichocorus, the Greek comic writer; yet he has illustrated him very
ably. Saith Nichocorus, 'The best cure for drunkenness is a sudden
calamity.' For chronic drunkenness, a continued course of real
misfortune must be very salutary!"

No answer came from the two complainants; and my father took up a great
book.




CHAPTER II.


"Mr friends," said my father, looking up from his book, and addressing
himself to his two visitors, know of one thing, milder than calamity,
that would do you both a great deal of good."

"What is that?" asked Sir Sedley.

"A saffron bag, worn at the pit of the stomach!"

"Austin, my dear," said my mother, reprovingly.