Drofo seemed inattentive to either worms or wormingers, but this negligence was illusory. One afternoon Lankwiler neglected fully to bait the baskets which hung eight inches in front of his worms; as a result they slackened their effort, while Cugel's worms, properly baited, swam with zeal, so that the Galante began to swing westward in a great slow curve, despite the helmsman's correction.

Drofo, summoned from the bow, instantly diagnosed the difficulty and, further, discovered Lankwiler asleep in a warm nook beside the galley.

Drofo nudged Lankwiler with his toe. "Be good enough to arouse yourself. You have not baited your worms; as a result the ship is off course."

Lankwiler stared up in confusion, his black curls matted and his eyes looking in different directions. "Ah yes," mumbled Lankwiler. "The bait! It slipped my mind and I fear that I dozed off."

"I am surprised that you could sleep so soundly while your worms went slack!" said Drofo. "A skilled worminger is constantly keen. He learns to sense the least irregularity, and instantly divines its source."

"Yes, yes," muttered Lankwiler. "I now understand my mistake. 'Sense irregularity', 'divine source'. I will make a memorandum."

"Furthermore," said Drofo, "I notice a virulent case of tirrip on your off-worm, which you must take pains to abate."

"Absolutely, sir! At once, if not sooner!" Lankwiler struggled to his feet, hid a cavernous yawn behind his hand while Drofo watched impassively, then lurched off to his worms.

Later in the day Cugel chanced to overhear a conversation between Drofo and Captain Baunt. "Tomorrow afternoon," said Drofo, "we shall have a taste of wind. It will be good for the worms. They are not yet at full vigor, and I see no reason to push them."

"True, true," said the captain. "How do you fancy your wormingers?"

"At this time neither enjoys a rating of 'excellent,'" said Drofo. "Lankwiler is obtuse and somewhat sluggish. Cugel lacks experience and wastes energy preening in front of the girls. He works to an absolute minimum, and detests water with the fervor of a hydrophobic cat."

"His worms appear sound."

Drofo gave his head a disparaging shake. "Cugel does the right things for the wrong reasons. Through sloth he neither overfeeds nor overbaits; his worms suffer little bloat. He despises the work of dealing with timp and gangue so fiercely that he obliterates its first appearance."

"In that case, his work would seem satisfactory."

"Only to a layman! For a worminger, style and harmony of purpose are everything!"

"You have your problems; I have mine."

"How so? I thought that all went smoothly."

"To a certain extent. As you may be aware, Madame Soldinck is a woman of strong and immutable purposes."

"I divined something along those lines."

"At lunch today I mentioned that our position was two or three days sail north-east of Lausicaa."

"That would be my own reckoning, by the lay of the sea," said Drofo. "It is an interesting island. Pulk the worminger lives at Pompodouros."