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by [?]

Steelman was a hard case. If you were married, and settled down, and were so unfortunate as to have known Steelman in other days, he would, if in your neighbourhood and dead-beat, be sure to look you up. He would find you anywhere, no matter what precautions you might take. If he came to your house, he would stay to tea without invitation, and if he stayed to tea, he would ask you to “fix up a shake-down on the floor, old man,” and put him up for the night; and, if he stopped all night, he’d remain–well, until something better turned up.

There was no shaking off Steelman. He had a way about him which would often make it appear as if you had invited him to stay, and pressed him against his roving inclination, and were glad to have him round for company, while he remained only out of pure goodwill to you. He didn’t like to offend an old friend by refusing his invitation.

Steelman knew his men.

The married victim generally had neither the courage nor the ability to turn him out. He was cheerfully blind and deaf to all hints, and if the exasperated missus said anything to him straight, he would look shocked, and reply, as likely as not:

“Why, my good woman, you must be mad! I’m your husband’s guest!”

And if she wouldn’t cook for him, he’d cook for himself. There was no choking him off. Few people care to call the police in a case like this; and besides, as before remarked, Steelman knew his men. The only way to escape from him was to move–but then, as likely as not, he’d help pack up and come along with his portmanteau right on top of the last load of furniture, and drive you and your wife to the verge of madness by the calm style in which he proceeded to superintend the hanging of your pictures.

Once he quartered himself like this on an old schoolmate of his, named Brown, who had got married and steady and settled down. Brown tried all ways to get rid of Steelman, but he couldn’t do it. One day Brown said to Steelman:

“Look here, Steely, old man, I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid we won’t be able to accommodate you any longer–to make you comfortable, I mean. You see, a sister of the missus is coming down on a visit for a month or two, and we ain’t got anywhere to put her, except in your room. I wish the missus’s relations to blazes! I didn’t marry the whole blessed family; but it seems I’ve got to keep them.”

Pause–very awkward and painful for poor Brown. Discouraging silence from Steelman. Brown rested his elbows on his knees, and, with a pathetic and appealing movement of his hand across his forehead, he continued desperately:

“I’m very sorry, you see, old man–you know I’d like you to stay–I want you to stay….It isn’t my fault–it’s the missus’s doings. I’ve done my best with her, but I can’t help it. I’ve been more like a master in my own house–more comfortable–and I’ve been better treated since I’ve had you to back me up….I’ll feel mighty lonely, anyway, when ycu’re gone….But… you know…as soon as her sister goes…you know….”

Here poor Brown broke down–very sorry he had spoken at all; but Steely came to the rescue with a ray of light.

“What’s the matter with the little room at the back?” he asked.

“Oh, we couldn’t think of putting you there,” said Brown, with a last effort; “it’s not fined up; you wouldn’t be comfortable, and, besides, it’s damp, and you’d catch your death of cold. It was never meant for anything but a wash-house. I’m sorry I didn’t get another room built on to the house.”

“Bosh!” interrupted Steelman, cheerfully. “Catch a cold! Here I’ve been knocking about the country for the last five years–sleeping out in all weathers–and do you think a little damp is going to hurt me? Pooh! What do you take me for? Don’t you bother your head about it any more, old man; I’ll fix up the lumber-room for myself, all right; and all you’ve got to do is to let me know when the sister-in-law business is coming on, and I’ll shift out of my room in time for the missus to get it ready for her. Here, have you got a bob on you? I’ll go out and get some beer. A drop’ll do you good.”