und himself dismissed. Later in
the day he received a summons to the bedroom where Mr. Chadwick's son was
being carefully nursed. Leonard Chadwick, about the same age as his
rescuer, had never deigned to pay much attention to Humplebee, whom he
regarded as stupid and plebeian; but the boy's character was marked by a
generous impulsiveness, which came out strongly in the present
circumstances.

'Hallo, Humpy!' he cried, raising himself up when the other entered. 'So
you pulled me out of that hole! Shake hands, Buzzy, old fellow! You've had
a talk with my governor, haven't you? What do you think of him?'

Humplebee muttered something incoherent.

'My governor's going to make your fortune, Humpy!' cried Leonard. 'He told
me so, and when he says a thing he means it. He's going to start you in
business when you leave school; most likely you'll go into his own office.
How will you like that, Humpy? My governor thinks no end of you; says
you're a brick, and so you are. I shan't forget that you pulled me out of
that hole, old chap. We shall be friends all our lives, you know. Tell me
what you thought of my governor?'

When he was on his legs again, Leonard continued to treat Humplebee with
grateful, if somewhat condescending, friendliness. In the talks they had
together the great man's son continually expatiated upon his preserver's
brilliant prospects. Beyond possibility of doubt Humplebee would some day
be a rich man; Mr. Chadwick had said so, and whatever he purposed came to
pass. To all this Humplebee listened in a dogged sort of way, now and then
smiling, but seldom making verbal answer. In school he was not quite the
same boy as before his exploit; he seemed duller, less attentive, and at
times even incurred reproaches for work ill done--previously a thing
unknown. When the holidays came, no boy was so glad as Humplebee; his heart
sang within him as he turned his back upon the school and began the journey
homeward.

That home was in the town illuminated by Mr. Chadwick's commercial and
municipal brilliance; over a small draper's shop in one of the outskirt
streets stood the name of Humplebee the draper. About sixty years of age,
he had known plenty of misfortune and sorrows, with scant admixture of
happiness. Nowadays things were somewhat better with him; by dint of severe
economy he had put aside two or three hundred pounds, and he was able,
moreover, to give his son (an only child) what is called a sound education.