160 AUGUST 



help weaker vessels to get to the surface when he 

 said these things with desperate intent to secure my 

 help in his mission, I must say I felt rather guilty. 

 He was terribly in earnest, and one of the worst of 

 the village topers was hovering round his rickety 

 ladder, uncertain whether to sign or not to sign. 

 Well it did not seem a great hardship to give up 

 my daily small allowance of wine, so in the end I 

 went up those steps and signed the pledge, the 

 village toper following in my footsteps. 



I went home with a slight feeling of shame mixed 

 with a certain amount of satisfaction in my virtue. 

 When I broke the news to Jim he gave way to 

 unusual laughter and called me names. He said 

 we had been wanting in village idiots since Aunty 

 Green died, but that her place was filled at last 

 with the real article. I watched him drinking his 

 claret with much affected gusto, and thought it very 

 hateful of him that he did not offer to give up his 

 glass now that I had given up mine. The Cadger 

 had called it "giving up the glass," and it seemed 

 to me that Jim was acting selfishly in sticking 

 to his. The next day at dinner-time he told me 

 that he had just seen Bill Reynolds (the converted 

 toper who had signed the pledge with me) reeling 

 home from the village inn. 



Things went on like this for nearly a month. I 

 could not eat my meals without the modest glass of 

 claret to which I had been accustomed, and when 

 they were finished I was uneasy. I used to think 

 of the Eton boy who complained that his cold 

 chicken "got in front and hurt." Every day I 

 watched Jim as he filled his glass, and every day I 



