Early on Wednesday morning, eleven days from the date of sailing, the good steamer which bore our hero as passenger, steamed into the harbor of Liverpool. As may readily be supposed, Frank was on deck, gazing with eager expectation at the great city before him, with its solid docks, and the indications of its wide-spreading commerce.

"Well, Frank, we are almost there," said Colonel Sharpley.

"Yes, sir. Isn't it glorious!" exclaimed our hero, with enthusiasm.

"I don't see anything glorious," said a voice at his side.

The speaker was Mr. Tarbox, of Squashboro', State o' Maine.

"Don't you like it, Mr. Tarbox?" asked Frank.

"Liverpool ain't a circumstance to New York," said the Yankee, with patriotic pride. "New York's bigger and finer than this town ever will see."

"I don't care whether it's bigger or not," said Frank. "It's jolly being here. What a splendid time I mean to have."

"Enjoy yourself while you may," said Sharpley to himself. "Your time is short."

"What tavern are you goin' to put up at?" asked Mr. Tarbox.

"I don't know," said Frank. "Perhaps Colonel Sharpley can tell you."

Sharpley turned around, and looked at the Yankee superciliously.

"I really have not decided," he said.

"I thought I'd like to put up at the same," said Mr. Tarbox, "seein' as I know you. May be we might ride in the same carriage to the tavern."

"I prefer not to add to my party, sir," said Colonel Sharpley, frigidly.

"Oh, you needn't flare up," said Jonathan Tarbox, coolly. "I'm willin' to pay my share of the bill."

"I must decline making any arrangement with you, sir," said Sharpley as he moved away.

"Kinder offish, ain't he?" said Mr. Tarbox, addressing Frank.

"He seems a little so," said Frank; "but I hope, Mr. Tarbox, you won't think I am unwilling to be in your company."

"No, I don't," said the Yankee, cordially. "You ain't a bit stuck up. I'd like to let that chap know that I'm as good as he is, if he does call himself colonel."

"No doubt of it."

"And if I can only make my plow go, I'll be rich some day."

"I hope you will, Mr. Tarbox."

"So do I. Do you know what I'll do then?"

"What?"

"You see, there's a gal in our town; her name is Sally Sprague, and she's about the nicest gal I ever sot eyes on. Ef things goes well with me, that gal will have a chance to be Mrs. Tarbox," said Jonathan, energetically.

"I hope she will," said Frank, in amused sympathy.

"I like you—I do!" said Mr. Tarbox. "Ef ever I git a chance to do you a good turn, I'll do it."

"Thank you, Mr. Tarbox. I am sorry Colonel Sharpley was rude to you."

"I can stand it," said Jonathan; "and I mean to go to the same tavern, too."

The custom-house officials came on board and examined the luggage. This over, the passengers were permitted to land. On shore they encountered a crowd of hackmen.

"To the St. George Hotel," said Colonel Sharpley, selecting one of the number. "Here, Frank, get in."

Just behind was Mr. Tarbox, standing guard over a dilapidated trunk and a green chest, the latter of which contained his precious plow.

"Have a cab, sir?" asked a short, stout hackman.

"What are you goin' to charge?" asked Jonathan.

"Where do you want me to drive, sir?"

"St. George Tavern. Oh, stop a minute. Do they pile up the prices steep there?"

"It's reasonable, sir."

"That's all I want. I ain't goin' to pay no fancy prices. How much are you goin' to charge for carryin' me there?"

"Half a crown, sir."

"What in thunder's half a crown?"

"Ain't he precious green?" thought cabby. But he answered, respectfully:

"It's two-and-six, sir."

"Two dollars and six cents?"

"No, sir; two shillin's and sixpence."

"It's too much."

"Reg'lar price."

"I don't believe it. Here, you other chap," beckoning to another cabman, "what'll you charge to take me to the St. George Tavern?"

This brought the first cabby to terms.

"Jump in, sir. I'll take you round for two shillin's," he said.

"All right," said Jonathan. "I'll help you with that chist. Now put her over the road. I'm hungry, and want some vittles."

Five minutes after Frank arrived at the St. George with his guardian, Mr. Tarbox drove up, bag and baggage.

"You see I'm here most as soon as you," said Tarbox, nodding. "We ain't separated yet. It's a pooty nice tavern, Mr. Sharpley," accosting Frank's guardian with easy forgetfulness of the latter's repellant manner.

"What is your object in following us, sir?" asked Sharpley, frigidly.

"You haven't engaged this tavern all to yourself, have you?" demanded Jonathan. "Ain't it free to other travelers?"

Sharpley saw the other had him at advantage.

"Didn't you come here because we were here?" he asked.

"May be I did, and then again may be I didn't," the other replied. "There ain't any law ag'in it, is there?"

"I should hardly suppose you would wish to thrust yourself into the society of those who don't want you."

"I won't run up no bills on your account," said Mr. Tarbox; "but I'm goin' just where I please, even if you are there already. Frank here ain't no way troubled about it."

"Frank, as you call him, is under my guardianship," said Mr. Sharpley, with a sneer. "I don't wish him to associate with improper persons."

"Do you call me an improper person?" demanded Mr. Tarbox, offended.

"You can draw your own inferences, Mr.—I really don't know who."

"Tarbox, of Squashboro', State o' Maine."

"Then, Mr. Tarbox, of Squashboro', State o' Maine, I have already wasted as much time as I choose to do on you, and must close the conversation."

"All right, sir. You'd better shut up Frank in a glass case, if you don't want him to associate with any improper persons."

But Colonel Sharpley had turned on his heel and moved away.

"I can't have that fellow following us everywhere," he said to himself. "The task I have before me is one which demands secrecy, in order to avert all suspicion in case anything happens. This inquisitive, prying Yankee may spoil all. He won't take a hint, and I suspect it would be dangerous to try a kick. The trouble with these Yankees is that they are afraid of nothing, and are bent on carrying out their own purposes, however disagreeable to others. I must ask Frank about this fellow and his plans."

"Frank," he commenced, when they were alone, "I must congratulate you on this Yankee friend of yours. He has fastened on us like a leech."

"He is a good-natured fellow," said Frank.

"He is an impudent scoundrel!" said Sharpley, impatiently.

"Not so bad as that. He is not used to the ways of the world, and he seems to have taken a fancy to me."

"He ought to see that his company's not wanted."

"He is not disagreeable to me. I am rather amused by his odd ways and talk."

"I am not. He is confoundedly disagreeable to me. We must shake him off. We can't have him following us all over Europe."

"He won't do that. He is going to the Paris Exposition."

"What's he going to do there—exhibit himself?"

"Not exactly," said Frank, good humoredly. "He's invented a plow that will take the shine off all others, so he says. So he will be detained there for some time."

"I am glad to hear that; but I mean to get rid of him beforehand. When we leave here we mustn't tell where we are going."

"I can't," answered Frank; "for I don't know, unless it is to London."

"Then I won't tell you, or you might let it out accidentally."

Meanwhile, Jonathan, who had ordered a couple of chops, was sitting in the coffee-room, making a vigorous onslaught upon them.

"I wonder what makes that Sharpley so skittish about me and Frank bein' together?" he thought. "He needn't think I want to stick near him. I wouldn't give half a cent for his company. But that boy's a good sort of a chap and a gentleman. I'll keep him in sight if I can."