"Now, sir, _please_!" cried a rough voice, as a heavily-laden man came
up, and my companion drew me into the road.
"Tell me your name."
"Gordon, sir," I said. "Mayne Gordon."
"Come and see me--and my wife," he said, taking a card from a shabby
pocket-book. "Come on Sunday evening and have tea with us--Kentish
Town. Will you come?"
"Yes," I said, eagerly.
"That's right. There, I can't talk now. Shake hands. Good-bye."
He wrung my hand hard, and turned hurriedly away, but I was by his side
again.
"Stop," I said. "You have not taken the--the--"
"No," he said, clapping me on the shoulder, "I can't do that. You've
given me something worth a thousand such coins as that, boy as you are--
renewed faith in my fellow-man--better still, patience and hope.
Good-bye, my lad," he said, brightly. "On Sunday, mind. Don't lose
that card."
Before I could speak again he had hurried away, and just then a cold
chill ran through me, and I set off at a run.
Suppose Mr Isaac Dempster should have come out into the office and
found I had gone out!