Poor Esau and I had had a hard time at the office, for it seemed that my
patient forbearing way of receiving all the fault-finding made Mr
Dempster go home at night to invent unpleasant things to say, till, as I
had listened, it had seemed as if my blood boiled, and a hot sensation
came into my throat.
All this had greatly increased by the Saturday afternoon, and had set me
thinking that there was something in what Esau said, and that I should
be better anywhere than where I was.
But on the Sunday afternoon, as I walked up the sunny road to Kentish
Town, and turned down a side street of small old-looking houses, each
with its bit of garden and flowers, everything looked so bright and
pleasant, even there, that my spirits began to rise; and all the more
from the fact that at one of the cottage-like places with its porch and
flowers, there were three cages outside, two of whose inmates, a lark
and a canary, were singing loudly and making the place ring.
It is curious how a musical sound takes one back to the past. In an
instant as I walked on, I was seeing the bright river down at home, with
the boat gliding along, the roach and dace flashing away to right and
left, the chub scurrying from under the willows, the water-weeds and
white buttercups brushing against the sides, and the lark singing high
overhead in the blue sky.
London and its smoke were gone, and the houses to right and left had no
existence for me then, till I was suddenly brought back to the present
by a hand being laid on my shoulder, and a familiar voice saying--
"Mr Gordon! Had you forgotten the address? You have passed the
house!"
As these words were uttered a hand grasped mine very warmly, and I was
looking in the thin, worn, pleasant features of Mr John Dempster, which
seemed far brighter than when I saw him at the office.
"Very, very glad to see you, my dear young friend," he cried, taking my
arm. "My wife and I have been looking forward to this day; she is very
eager to make your acquaintance."
To my surprise he led me back to the little house where the birds were
singing, and I could not help glancing at him wonderingly, for I had
fully expected to find him living in a state of poverty, whereas
everything looked neat and good and plain.
"Give me your hat," he said, as we stood in the passage. "That's right.
Now in here. Alexes, my dear, this is my young friend, Mr Gordon."
"I am very glad you have come," said a sweet, musical voice; and my hand
was taken by a graceful-looking lady, who must once have been very
beautiful. "You are hot and tired. Come and sit down here."
I felt hot and uncomfortable, everything was so different from what I
had expected; for the room was not in the least shabby, and the
tea-things placed ready added to the pleasant home-like aspect of the
place.
"You have not walked?" said Mr John Dempster.
"Oh, yes," I replied.
"From--where?"