their squeezing, one rainy muggy May night, into a second-class

railway-carriage - you could never tell by which class they would

travel - where Pemberton helped them to stow away a wonderful

collection of bundles and bags. The explanation of this manoeuvre

was that they had determined to spend the summer "in some bracing

place"; but in Paris they dropped into a small furnished apartment

- a fourth floor in a third-rate avenue, where there was a smell on

the staircase and the portier was hateful - and passed the next

four months in blank indigence.

The better part of this baffled sojourn was for the preceptor and

his pupil, who, visiting the Invalides and Notre Dame, the

Conciergerie and all the museums, took a hundred remunerative

rambles. They learned to know their Paris, which was useful, for

they came back another year for a longer stay, the general

character of which in Pemberton's memory to-day mixes pitiably and

confusedly with that of the first. He sees Morgan's shabby

knickerbockers - the everlasting pair that didn't match his blouse

and that as he grew longer could only grow faded. He remembers the

particular holes in his three or four pair of coloured stockings.

Morgan was dear to his mother, but he never was better dressed than

was absolutely necessary - partly, no doubt, by his own fault, for

he was as indifferent to his appearance as a German philosopher.

"My dear fellow, you ARE coming to pieces," Pemberton would say to

him in sceptical remonstrance; to which the child would reply,

looking at him serenely up and down: "My dear fellow, so are you!

I don't want to cast you in the shade." Pemberton could have no

rejoinder for this - the assertion so closely represented the fact.

If however the deficiencies of his own wardrobe were a chapter by

themselves he didn't like his little charge to look too poor.

Later he used to say "Well, if we're poor, why, after all,

shouldn't we look it?" and he consoled himself with thinking there

was something rather elderly and gentlemanly in Morgan's disrepair

- it differed from the untidiness of the urchin who plays and

spoils his things. He could trace perfectly the degrees by which,

in proportion as her little son confined himself to his tutor for

society, Mrs. Moreen shrewdly forbore to renew his garments. She

did nothing that didn't show, neglected him because he escaped

notice, and then, as he illustrated this clever policy, discouraged

at home his public appearances. Her position was logical enough -

those members of her family who did show had to be showy.

During this period and several others Pemberton was quite aware of

how he and his comrade might strike people; wandering languidly

through the Jardin des Plantes as if they had nowhere to go,

sitting on the winter days in the galleries of the Louvre, so

splendidly ironical to the homeless, as if for the advantage of the

calorifere. They joked about it sometimes: it was the sort of

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