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.  In the limited rooms above the shop there might have been a measure of quiet content and hopefulness, but for Mrs. Humplebee.  She, considerably younger than her husband, fretted against their narrow circumstances, and grudged the money that was being spent—­wasted, she called it—­on the boy Harry.

From his father Harry never heard talk of pecuniary troubles, but the mother lost no opportunity of letting him know that they were poor, miserably poor; and adding, that if he did not work hard at school he was simply a cold-hearted criminal, and robbed his parents of their bread.

But during the last month or two a change had come upon the household.  One day the draper received a visit from the great Mr. Chadwick, who told a wonderful story of Harry’s heroism, and made proposals sounding so nobly generous that Mr. Humplebee was overcome with gratitude.

Harry, as his father knew, had no vocation for the shop; to get him a place in a manufacturer’s office seemed the best thing that could be aimed at, and here was Mr. Chadwick talking of easy book-keeping, quick advancement, and all manner of vaguely splendid possibilities in the future.  The draper’s joy proved Mrs. Humplebee’s opportunity.  She put forward a project which had of late been constantly on her mind and on her lips, to wit, that they should transfer their business into larger premises, and give themselves a chance of prosperity.  Humplebee need no longer hesitate.  He had his little capital to meet the first expenses, and if need arose there need not be the slightest doubt that Mr. Chadwick would assist him.  A kind gentleman Mr. Chadwick!  Had he not expressly desired to see Harry’s mother, and had he not assured her in every way possible of his debt and gratitude he felt towards all who bore the name of Humplebee?  The draper, if he neglected his opportunity, would be an idiot—­a mere idiot.