“He’s a nice chap.”  Selwyn’s voice was unqualifiedly emphatic.  “And his father is as honest a man as ever lived.  His mother, I believe, comes of pretty plain people.”

“I don’t know where she comes from, but she’s made a success of her son, which is what a good many well-born women fail to do.  People aren’t responsible for their ancestors, but they are for their descendants to a great extent, and Mrs. Cressy seems to understand this more clearly than certain ancestrally dependent persons I have met.  I’d like to know her.”

“You’re looking at me as if I didn’t agree with you.  Some day I hope there may be deeper understanding of, and better training for, the supreme profession of life; but to get out of generalizations into a concrete case, what can I do in the way of service to Miss Swink and Mr. Thomas Cressy?  Being, as I said before, an interested party, I hardly—­”

A knock on the door behind him made Selwyn start as if struck; gave evidence of strain and nervousness of which he was unconscious, and, jumping up, he went toward the door and opened it.  In the hall Bettina and Jimmy Gibbons were standing.  The latter was twisting his cap round and round in his hand, his big, brown eyes looking first at Bettina and then at me and then at Selwyn, but to my “Come in,” he paid no attention.

Getting up, I went toward him, put my hand on his shoulder.  “What is it, Jimmy?  Why don’t you come in?”

“My shoes ain’t fitten.  I wiped them, but the mud wouldn’t come off.”  His eyes looked down on his feet.  “I could tell you out here if you wouldn’t mind listening.”

“I told him I’d take the message or call you down-stairs, but he wouldn’t let me do either one.”  Bettina, hands behind her, nodded in my face.  “His mother says her boarder is dying and she wants to tell you something before she dies, and she told Jimmy he must see you himself.  Grannie’s gone to prayer-meeting with Mrs. Crimm, and afterward to see about a sick person.  I’m awful sorry to interrupt you, and if the lady hadn’t been dying—­”

“You’re not interrupting.”  I drew the boy inside.  Bettina came also.  From the fire to which I led him, Jimmy drew back, however, and blew upon his stiff little fingers until it was safe to put them closer to the blazing coals.  Looking down at his feet, I saw a large and ragged hole on the side of his right shoe from which a tiny bit of blood was slowly oozing upon the rug.

“What’s the matter with your foot, Jimmy?  Have you cut it, stuck something in it?  You must take your shoe off and see what’s the matter.”  I pointed to the floor.

“I didn’t know I’d done it.”  Craning his neck to its fullest extending.  Jimmy peered down at the bleeding foot, then looked up at me.  “I’m awful sorry it got on the rug.  I’ll wipe it up in a minute.”  Imperishable merriment struggled with abashed regret, and, holding out the offending foot, he laughed wistfully.  “It ain’t got no feeling in it, though it’s coming.  I guess it’s kinder froze.  They’re regular flip-flops, them shoes are.”