y clouded heavily, and, when
finally he descended, the rain was falling swiftly again.

At last he was at home! He thought of the studio now with affection, and
quickened his pace feverishly. Then he became aware that a familiar
figure, holding a familiar rush-bag with a skewer thrust through it, was
trudging just ahead of him in the growing darkness. But he was not
surprised at catching sight of Mr. Robinson, since it was the regular
hour of the merchant's appearance after his homeward journey from the
City. As usual, Mr. Robinson's house filled the centre of vision,
looming vast at the cross-roads, and softened in the evening mist; and
for the first time the figure plodding towards it under the dripping
umbrella struck Wyndham as interesting and strangely human.

Steadily, steadily, Wyndham gained on his neighbour; then, acting on
some vague instinct, slackened his step so as not to have to pass him to
get to his own door. But just outside the studio Mr. Robinson slipped,
swayed, then came to the ground heavily. Wyndham at once hurried
forward, and helped him to his feet.

"You are not hurt, I hope?" he inquired.

"I think not," returned the old man. He leaned against the studio door,
whilst Wyndham took the rush-bag from his clenched fingers, and gathered
up the umbrella from the gutter into which it had rolled. Mr. Robinson
surveyed his soiled garments ruefully, and shook his head sadly.

"It _is_ beastly," assented Wyndham.

"It can't be helped," said the old man; "though mud like this on a new
suit of clothes puts a hard strain on a man's philosophy." There was a
good-natured gleam in his eye and a brave smile on his face. Wyndham
found himself unexpectedly attracted, and was much concerned when Mr.
Robinson tried to take a step or two, but was pulled up painfully.

"Pray, don't alarm yourself, sir," said Mr. Robinson, as Wyndham caught
at his arm solicitously. "I am only a little bruised, and have had
rather a wrench. I must just breathe for an instant."

"Won't you come into my studio, and rest for a moment or two?" suggested
Wyndham. "I shall be delighted if you will."

He produced the key from his pocket, turned it in the lock, and threw
open the door. Then he offered Mr. Robinson the support of his arm.

"It is very kind of you, sir," said the old man, as he linked his arm in
Wyndham's. "My name is Robinson. I live just up the road. I daresay you
may have noticed me: I have often noticed you."

"I