nfancy should be safely passed.

It was Tim who had insisted on having the escort of both his natural
guardians on the occasion; and at such a time and on such an errand
Tim's word was law. So they had gone all four in a cab, and now Raby
and Jeffreys returned, and with a sense of bereavement, through the
Park.

"I will certainly go and see Mrs Trimble when next I am North," said
Raby, "though I wish I deserved half her gratitude."

"You deserve it all. You were an angel of light to that poor fellow."

They walked on some way in silence. Then she said--

"Storr Alley is so different now, Mr Jeffreys. A family of seven is in
your garret. You would hardly know the place."

"It would be strange indeed if I did not, for I too saw light there."

"How wonderful it all was!" said Raby.

"When Jonah was telling me about his good protector, John, how little I
dreamed it was you!"

"And when you wrote this little letter," said he, showing her the
precious scrap of paper, "how little you dreamed who would bless you for
it!"

"The blessing belonged, did it not, to Him Who has been leading us all,
in mercy, in His own way?"

Again they walked in silence.

Was it accident, or what, which brought them, without knowing it, to a
spot which to each was full of painful memories?

Raby was the first to stop abruptly.

"Let us go another way, Mr Jeffreys, if you don't mind. I don't like
this avenue."

"No more do I," said Jeffreys, who had stopped too.

"Why?" she asked.

"Need I say?"

"Not if you don't like."

"I have not walked down here since an afternoon last October. There was
a sudden storm of rain--"

"What! Were you here then?"

"I was. You did not see me."

"You saw me then. I was with Mr Scarfe."

"Yes. You were--"

"Miserable and angry," said she, her face kindling at the recollection.

He darted one glance at her, as brief as that he had darted on the
afternoon of which they spoke.

Then, he had read nothing but despair for himself; now, though her eyes
were downcast and her voice angry, he thought he read hope.

"Suppose," said he, in a little while, "instead of running away from the
path, we just walk down it together. Would you mind? Are you afraid?"

"No," she said, smiling. And they walked on.

THE END.

End of Project Gutenberg's A Dog with a Bad Name, by Talbot Baines Reed

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOG WITH A BAD NAME ***

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