Our lamented friend consented to parley with
him, which was something remarkable in the Doctor; still more
remarkable, he gave him a suit of clothes, and, it is said, some
money, and sent him on his way. Now, more remarkable than all, our
friend, on hearing of his benefactor's death, actually tramps back
here to attend his funeral. The Doctor being dead, his executors
not of a kind to emulate the Doctor's spasmodic generosity, and
there being no chance of future favors, the act must be recorded as
purely and simply gratitude. By Jove! I don't know but that he is
the only one here who can be called a real mourner. I'm here
because your sister is here; Carroll comes because YOU do, and you
come because your mother can not."
"And who tells you these pretty stories?" asked Maruja, with her
face still turned towards Carroll.
"The foreman, Harrison, who, with an extensive practical experience
of tramps, was struck with this exception to the general rule."
"Poor man; one ought to do something for him," said Amita,
compassionately.
"What!" said Raymond, with affected terror, "and spoil this perfect
story? Never! If I should offer him ten dollars, I'd expect him
to kick me; if he took it, I'd expect to kick HIM."
"He is not so bad-looking, is he, Maruja?" asked Amita of her
sister. But Maruja had already moved a few paces off with Carroll,
and seemed to be listening to him only. Raymond smiled at the
pretty perplexity of Amita's eyebrows over this pronounced
indiscretion.
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