’What’s the good of talking about it?  Why there’s a little locksmith’s and ironmonger’s shop to let in that street just off the far end of Lambeth Walk.  They’re selling off now; I’m going to buy a few things to-morrow.  But what’s the good of thinking about it?’

‘I don’t know.  What’s the rent?’

’Not more than forty pounds, house and all, I dare say.  A mate of mine was talking about it.  He said he wished he’d a couple of hundred pounds to take it and start.  The man’s dead, and his wife wanted to sell the business, but she can’t get an offer.’

The meeting which Jack was attending had began to sing a hymn.  The voices, harmonised by distance, sounded pleasantly.

‘I like that hymn-tune, Mr. Bunce,’ said Totty, ‘don’t you?’

‘I don’t think much about hymns, Miss Nancarrow.’

‘Well, you might say you like it.’

‘I do, to tell the truth—­so long as I can’t hear the words.’

’I don’t care nothing about the words, either.  So we agree about something, at all events.’

‘I don’t think we’ve differed about many things, have we?’

She looked at him frankly. and smiled.  Then she said: 

’Oh, you used to be a bit afraid of me, I know.  Shall I tell you what it was made us real friends?  It was when you burnt your hand, and I did it up for you.’

Bunce now returned her look, and his swarthy cheeks reddened.  His eyes fell again.

‘You behaved very kindly,’ he said in a half-ashamed way.  ’I don’t forget, and I’m not likely ever to.  And I shan’t forget all you’ve done for the children, either.  I don’t think there’s any one living I’ve more to thank for than you.’

‘The idea.’

‘Well, it’s true.’

’But look here, Mr. Bunce.  About that shop.  Suppose you had two hundred and fifty pounds; could you make a start, do you think?’

’I rather suppose I could.  And where’s two hundred and fifty pound to come from, Miss Nancarrow?’

‘I’ll lend it you if you like.’

He gazed at her with so strange a face that Totty broke into hearty laughter.  Bunce joined, appreciating the joke.

’I mean it, Mr. Bunce.  I’ve got two hundred and fifty pounds—­at all events I can have, whenever I like.’

He gazed again, wondering at her tone.

‘Now I see you don’t believe me, so I shall have to explain.’

She told him the story of her legacy, only forbearing to speak of the condition attached to it.

‘Will you let me lend it you, Mr. Bunce?’

’No, I’m sure I shan’t, Miss Nancarrow.  You’ll have plenty of use for that yourself.’

‘Look here, Nelly!’ The child was listening to this remarkable dialogue, and trying to understand.  ’Tell your father he’s to do just what I want.  If he doesn’t, I’ll never speak again neither to you nor Jacky.  Now, I mean it.’

‘Please father,’ said Nelly, ‘do what Miss Nancarrow wants.’