cash. The natives along the road were all dubi
ous; and bean-feasters from London, dashing past
in coaches, cheered and jeered and shouted insult
ing things after us. But before we were done with
the Maidstone district my friend found that we
were as well clad, if not better, than the average
hopper. Some of the bunches of rags we chanced
upon were marvellous.

"The tide is out," called a gypsy-looking woman
to her mates, as we came up a long row of bins into
which the pickers were stripping the hops.

"Do you twig ? " Bert whispered. " She s on to
you."

I twigged. And it must be confessed the figure
was an apt one. When the tide is out boats are
left on the beach and do not sail, and a sailor, when
the tide is out, does not sail either. My seafaring
togs and my presence in the hop field proclaimed
that I was a seaman without a ship, a man on the
beach, and very like a craft at low water.

"Can yer give us a job, governor ? " Bert asked
the bailiff, a kindly faced and elderly man who was
very busy.

His " No," was decisively uttered; but Bert clung
on and followed him about, and I followed after,
pretty well all over the field. Whether our per
sistency struck the bailiff as anxiety to work, or
whether he was affected by our hard-luck appear-

[[173]]

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v?