d report that she seemed
even happy. Mr. Boddy rejoiced at this. Might not _he_ see the little
one some day? Yes, surely he should; Lydia would try for that.

Who had left him the food, then? No one entered his room to do anything
for him, save at intervals of a fortnight, when Mrs. Bower sent up a
charwoman; otherwise he had always waited upon himself. Two days went
by, then the offering was renewed, just in the same way, and this time
with the addition of some sugar. The giver could be but one person.
Mary Bower knew of his need, and was doing what she could for him. He
knew it in meeting her on the stairs the morning after; she said a kind
'Good-day,' and reddened, and went by with her head bent.

But it was bitter to receive such help. He could not refuse it, for
otherwise he must have lain down in helplessness, and he trusted yet
that there would come a turn in things. The winter cold began. Mrs.
Bower had not refused coals; he always burned so little that fuel was
allowed to be covered by the rent. But now he scarcely ventured to keep
his fire alight long enough to boil his kettle; he still had a little
supply for burning, and felt that he durst not go down to the cellar
for more, when that was done.

Then came the day when his landlady told him with decisive brevity that
she could trust him no longer. He must not be a foolish old man, but
must ask help from those whose duty it was to give it him.

That was in the afternoon. Mrs. Bower had come up to his room and had
asked for the rent. He waited until it was dark, then stole out of the
house, carrying his violin.

He would not sell it, only borrow a sum at the pawn-broker's, then he
could some day recover the instrument. Nor must he go to a pawn-shop in
this neighbourhood, whence tales would spread. He stumped over into
Southwark, and found a quiet street where the three brass halls hung
above an illuminated shop front. The entrance to the pawning department
was beneath a dark archway. At the door he stopped; there was a great
lump in his throat, and suddenly, with great physical anguish, tears
broke from his eyes. He stood away from the door until he could master
the flow of tears; then he went in, carefully selected a box which was
empty, and pledged the violin for ten shillings. The man refused to
lend him more, and he could not argue.

That fit of weeping seemed to have affected him for ill; going forth
again into the cold, he trembled violently, and by