the rest for him, for there was now
scope for all of it in his new position. His salary at starting was
two pounds fifteen shillings per week, the same as that of his
predecessor, who had left the firm voluntarily.

But even before leaving Dover he had had the satisfaction of being
able to send Helen a few pounds to pay some of the workmen, and she
had been able to make a satisfactory report to him. While she had been
in Scotland a couple of letters had passed between them which sufficed
for all they had to say to each other; and to his father as well he
had reported progress from time to time. Simon and Mark Kettering both
exhibited signs of emotion when the moment for parting came, and,
though they were sorry to lose him, rejoiced with him at his promotion.

"And I can only hope," were Simon's last words, "that my daughter will
never turn up to worry you, and that, even if you forget her, you'll
sometimes think of us folk here at Dover. And, be sure, if you ever
find yourself in the town again, there's a hearty welcome waiting for
you at my house."

In London, Morgan took a large, airy garret in Southwark, to get from
which to his work he had only to cross the bridge, and fitted it with
a narrow folding-bed and the few things he needed. He made his own
breakfast, had his dinner sent into the works at one o'clock from a
neighboring coffee-shop, had tea made for him by one of the girl
folders, and supped at home on bread and cheese. In this way he
managed to live and to dress neatly--patronising a very different sort
of tailor from his old London one--on a pound a week. Every penny of
the rest he put by rigorously.

About this time he learnt that his father could not come to town yet,
as the winter was a severe one, and he had had a touch of rheumatism.
As Morgan had come to look forward to seeing him now, this was a
disappointment. Moreover, he had grown to take a keener interest now
in the affairs of the home. At one time it had occupied little part of
his thoughts, but now a finer sensibility to his domestic ties seemed
to have arisen in him. He was very much concerned about this illness
of his father's, the full extent of which, he had an idea, had been
concealed from him. Helen, too, he saw but once during his first month
in London, on which occasion he donned his best garments and went to
take tea with her. Though their friendship had been so long passive,
it was not less intense than heretofore. By some mutua