f which was occupied by a workman,
who was sleeping soundly, and snoring too, his arms folded tightly
together. He had a little clay pipe in the corner of his mouth; it
seemed to be tucked in so snugly that there was not much danger of its
falling to the ground. At last Helen spoke to her companion.

"What do you mean by saying that you will not be able to finish your
picture? Perhaps you are not well. Indeed, you don't look well. You make
me anxious, for I have a great regard for you."

"I am ill and suffering," he answered, quietly. "I thought I should have
died yesterday; but I made up my mind to live until I saw you again, and
I thought I would ask you to spend the afternoon with me, and go with
me to Westminster Abbey, and sit with me in the cloisters. I do not
feel able to go by myself, and I know of no one to ask except you; and
I believed you would not refuse me, for you have been very kind to me.
I do not quite understand why you have been kind to me, but I am
wonderfully grateful to you. Today I heard some one in the gallery say
that you were plain. I turned round and I said, 'I beg your pardon; _I_
think she is very beautiful.' I think they laughed, and that puzzled me;
for you have always seemed to me a very beautiful person."

At that moment the little clay pipe fell from the workman's mouth and
was broken into bits. He awoke with a start, gazed stupidly at the old
man and his companion, and at the broken clay pipe.

"Curse my luck!" he said, yawning. "I was fond of that damned little
pipe."

The old man drew his own pipe and his own tobacco-pouch from his pocket.

"Take these, stranger," he said. "I don't want them. And good luck to
you."

The man's face brightened up as he took the pipe and pouch.

"You're uncommon kind," he said. "Can you spare them?" he added, holding
them out half reluctantly.

"Yes," answered the old man; "I shall not smoke again. You may as well
have these matches too."

The labourer put them in his pocket, smiled his thanks, and walked some
little distance off; and Helen watched him examine his new pipe, and
then fill it with tobacco and light it.

Mr. Lindall proposed that they should be getting on their way to
Westminster, and they soon found themselves in the abbey. They sat
together in the Poets' Corner; a smile of quiet happiness broke over
the old man's tired face as he looked around and took in all the solemn
beauty and grandeur of the resting-place of the great.