e.
"Documents all safe in the Bank.--Your affectionate Austin." That
would do beautifully, he thought. Then he offered it to a
proud-looking young lady who lived behind a barricade of brass
palings, and the young lady, having read it through (rather to his
indignation) and rapidly counted the words, gave him a couple of
stamps. But he explained, with great politeness, that he did not wish
it to go by post, as it was most important that it should reach its
destination before lunch-time; whereupon the young lady burst into a
hearty laugh, and asked him how soon he was going back to school.
Austin coloured furiously, rectified his mistake, and bolted.

In Piccadilly Circus his attention was immediately attracted by a
number of stout, florid, elderly ladies who were selling some most
lovely bouquets for the buttonhole. This was a temptation impossible
to resist, and he lost no time in choosing one. It cost fourpence, and
Austin was so charmed at the skilful way in which the florid lady he
had patronised pinned it into the lapel of his jacket that he raised
his hat to her on parting with as much ceremony as though she had been
a duchess at the very least. Then, observing that his shoe was dusty,
he submitted it to a merry-looking shoeblack, who not only cleaned it
and creamed it to perfection but polished up his wooden leg as well;
Austin, in his usual absent-minded way, humming to himself the while.
During the operation there suddenly rushed up a drove of very
ungainly-looking objects, who, in point of fact, were persons lately
arrived from Lancashire to play a football match at the Alexandra
Palace--though Austin, of course, could not be expected to know that;
and two of these, staring at him as though he were a wild animal that
they had never seen before, enquired with much solicitude how his
mother was, and whether he was having a happy day. Austin took no more
notice of them than if they had been flies, but as soon as the
shoeblack had finished, and been generously rewarded, he presented
them each with a penny.

"Wot's this for?" growled the foremost. "We ain't beggars, we ain't.
Wot d'ye mean by it?"

"Aren't you? I thought you were," said Austin. "However, you can keep
the pennies. They will buy you bread, you know."

The fellows edged off, muttering resentfully, and Austin prepared to
cross the road to Piccadilly. The next moment he received a violent
blow on the shoulder from an advancing horse, and was knocked