From the town end of the bridge, youthful eyes had descried his coming and the word was quickly passed that the uncle of all the little Montgomerys was approaching, presumably with philanthropic intent.  This rumor instantly stimulated an interest on the part of the adult population, an interest which had somewhat languished owing to the incapacity of human nature to sustain an emotional climax for any considerable length of time.  Untidy women and idle-looking men with the rust of inaction consuming them, quickly appeared on the scene, and when the little lamplighter descended from the railway tracks it was to be greeted with something like an ovation at the hands of his sister-in-law’s neighbors.

His ears caught the murmur of approval that passed from lip to lip and out of the very tail of his bleached eyes he noted the expression of satisfaction that was on every face.  Even the previously obdurate landlord met him with words of apology and conciliation.  It was a happy moment for Mr. Shrimplin, but not by so much as the flicker of an eyelash did he betray that this was so.  He had considered himself such a public character since the night of the McBride murder that he now deemed it incumbent to preserve a stoic manner; the admiration of his fellows could win nothing from the sternness of his nature, so he ignored the neighbors, while he was barely civil to the landlord.  The big roll of bills which, with something of a flourish, he produced from the pocket of his greasy overalls, settled the rent, and the neighbors noted with bated breath that the size of this roll was not perceptibly diminished by the transaction.

Presently Mr. Shrimplin found himself standing alone with Nellie; the landlord had departed with his money, while the neighbors, having devoted the greater part of the day to a sympathetic interest in Mrs. Montgomery’s fortunes, now had leisure for their own affairs.

“Why didn’t you send for me sooner?” demanded the little man with some asperity.  “No sense in having your things put out like this when you only got to put them back again!”

“If Joe was only here this would never have happened!” said Mrs. Montgomery, giving way to copious tears.

But Mr. Shrimplin seemed not so sure of this.  The settling of the handy-man’s difficulties had been one of the few extravagances he had permitted himself.  His glance now fell on the small occupant of the decrepit baby carriage, and he gave a start of astonishment.

“Lord!” he ejaculated, pointing to the child.  “You don’t mean to tell me that’s yours, too?”

“Three weeks next Sunday,” said Mrs. Montgomery.

“Another one,—­well, I don’t wonder you’ve kept still about it!  What’s the use of bringing children into the world when you can’t half take care of ’em?”

“I didn’t keep still about it,—­only I had so much to worry me!” said Nellie, with a shadowy sort of resentment at the little lamplighter’s words and manner.