’I did him a good turn once, when we were at school together.  He is a good, warm-hearted fellow, and has sought this opportunity of showing that he remembered the old time.’

Thus did Humplebee refer to the great event of his boyhood.  Having despatched the letter, he waited feverishly for Miss Bowes’ reply; but days passed, and still he waited in vain.  Agitation delayed his recovery; he was suffering as he had never suffered in his life, when there came a letter from London, signed with the name of Geldershaw, repeating in formal terms the offer made to him by Leonard Chadwick, and requesting his immediate acceptance or refusal.  This plucked him out of his despondent state, and spurred him to action.  With the help of his landlady he dressed himself, and, having concealed his bandaged arm as well as possible, drove in a cab to Miss Bowes’ dwelling.  The hour being before noon, he was almost sure to find Mary at home, and alone.  Trembling with bodily weakness and the conflict of emotions, he rang the door bell.  To his consternation there appeared Mary’s father.

‘Hallo!  Humplebee!’ cried Mr. Bowes, surprised but friendly.  ’Why, I was just going to write to you.  Mary has had scarlet fever.  I’ve been so busy these last ten days, I couldn’t even inquire after you.  Of course, I saw about your smash in the newspaper; how are you getting on?’

The man with the bandaged arm could not utter a word.  Horror-stricken he stared at Mr. Bowes, who had begun to express a doubt whether it would be prudent for him to enter the house.

Mary is convalescent; the anxiety’s all over, but—­’

Humplebee suddenly seized the speaker’s hand, and in confused words expressed vehement joy.  They talked for a few minutes, parted with cordiality, and Humplebee went home again to recover from his excitement.

A note from his employers had replied in terms of decent condolence to the message by which he explained his enforced absence.  To-day he wrote to the principal, announcing his intention of resigning his post in their office.  The response, delivered within a few hours, was admirably brief and to the point.  Mr. Humplebee’s place had, of course, been already taken temporarily by another clerk; it would have been held open for him, but, in view of his decision, the firm had merely to request that he would acknowledge the cheque enclosed in payment of his salary up to date.  Not without some shaking of the hand did Humplebee pen this receipt; for a moment something seemed to come between him and the daylight, and a heaviness oppressed his inner man.  But already he had despatched to London his formal acceptance of the post at five pounds a week, and in thinking of it his heart grew joyous.  Two hundred and sixty pounds a year!  It was beyond the hope of his most fantastic day-dreams.  He was a made man, secure for ever against fears and worries.  He was a man of substance, and need no longer shrink from making known the hope which ruled his life.