ing all the goodness of her soul into his ear, when
Simeon and the barrow reached the pavement, and Simeon staggered and
recovered himself.

"Look out, Arthur," Simeon cried. "The road's like glass. It's rained in
the night, and now it's freezing. Come along."

Arthur bade adieu to Mrs Hopkins.

"Eh, Mr Arthur," said she. "Things'll be different when ye come back,
this time a month."

He said nothing. The pincers and the anvil were at him again. He thought
of falls, torn garments, broken legs.

Simeon lifted the arms of the barrow, and then dropped them.

"Have you got it?" he demanded of Arthur.

"Got what?"

"_It_."

"Yes," said Arthur, comprehending.

"Are you sure? Show it me. Better give it me. It will be safer with me."

Arthur unbuttoned his overcoat, took off his left glove, and drew from
one of his pockets a small, bright object, which shone under the street
lamp. Simeon took it silently. Then he definitely seized the arms of the
barrow, and the procession started up the street.

No time had been lost, for Simeon had an extraordinary gift of celerity.
It was eleven minutes to seven. Nevertheless, Arthur felt the pincers,
and the feel of the pincers made him look at his watch.

"See here," said Simeon, briefly. "You needn't worry. _We shall catch
that train_. We've got twenty minutes, and we shall get to the station
in nine." The exertion of wheeling the barrow over what was practically
a sheet of rough ice made him speak in short gasps.

Impossible for the pincers and the anvil to remain in face of that
assured, almost god-like tone!

"Good!" murmured Arthur. "By Jove, but it's cold though!"

"I've never been hotter in my life," said Simeon, puffing. "Except in my
hands."

"Can't I take it for a bit?"

"No, you can't," said Simeon. At the robust finality of the refusal
Arthur laughed. Then Simeon laughed. The party became gay. The pincers
and the anvil were gone for ever. Simeon turned gingerly into Pollard
Street-half-way to the station. They had but to descend Pollard Street
and climb the path across the cinder-heaps beyond, and they would be, as
it were, in harbour. In Pollard Street Simeon had the happy idea of
taking to the roadway. It was rougher, and, therefore, less dangerous,
than the pavement. At intervals he shoved the wheel of the barrow by
main force over a stone.

"Put my hat straight, will you?" he asked of Arthur, and Arthur obeyed.
It was becoming a task under the winte