“Oh, those children’s days!  What an escape they, were for us in the black times!  Do you know that we once actually told one another fairy stories?”

“Not only that but we believed in them,” he insisted.  “I am perfectly certain that the night you found my star, and it seemed to us to keep on getting bigger and bigger while we looked at it, that from that night things have been getting better with me.”

“At least,” she declared, abruptly, “I am not going to spoil your dinner by keeping you here talking nonsense.  Carry me back, please, Arnold.  You must hurry up now and change your clothes.  And, dear, you had better not come in and wish me good-night.  Isaac went out this morning in one of his savage tempers, and he may be back at any moment.  Carry me back now, and have a beautiful evening.  To-morrow you must tell me all about it.”

He obeyed her.  She was really only a trifle to lift, as light as air.  She clung to him longingly, even to the last minute.

“And now, please, you are to kiss my forehead,” she said, “and run away.”

“Your forehead only?” he asked, bending over her.

“My forehead only, please,” she begged gravely.  “The other doesn’t go with our fairy stories, dear.  I want to go on believing in the fairy stories....”

Arnold had little enough time to dress, and he descended the stone steps towards the street at something like a run.  Half-way down, however, he pulled up abruptly to avoid running into two men.  One was Isaac.  His worn, white face, with hooked nose and jet-black eyes, made him a noticeable figure even in the twilight.  The other man was so muffled up as to be unrecognizable.  Arnold stopped short.

“Glad you’re home, Isaac,” he said pleasantly.  “I have just been talking to Ruth.  I thought she seemed rather queer.”

Isaac looked at him coldly from head to foot.  Arnold was wearing his only and ordinary overcoat, but his varnished shoes and white tie betrayed him.

“So you’re wearing your cursed livery again!” he sneered.  “You’re going to beg your bone from the rich man’s plate.”

Arnold laughed at him.

“Always the same, Isaac,” he declared.  “Never mind about me.  You look after your niece and take her out, if you can, somewhere.  I am going to give her a drive on Saturday.”

“Are you?” Isaac said calmly.  “I doubt it.  Drives and carriages are not for the like of us poor scum.”

His companion nudged him impatiently.  Isaac moved away.  Arnold turned after him.

“You won’t deny the right of a man to spend what he earns in the way he likes best?” he asked.  “I’ve had a rise in my salary, and I am going to spend a part of it taking Ruth out.”

Isaac laughed scornfully.

“A rise in your salary!” he muttered.  “You poor slave!  Did you go and kiss your master’s foot when he gave it to you?”

“I didn’t,” Arnold declared.  “To tell you the truth, I believe it would have annoyed him.  He hasn’t any sense of humor, you see.  Good night, Isaac.  If you’re writing one of those shattering articles to-night, remember that Ruth can hear you, and don’t keep her awake too late.”