Christopher one day brought home some knickknack which he had bought from a City pedlar, one of those men who stand at the edge of the pavement between a vigilant police and a menacing vehicular traffic.  It amused his sister-in-law, who showed it to her husband.  Theodore having learnt whence it came was not a little concerned.

“Now, if that isn’t like Christopher!  When will that boy learn ordinary prudence?  The idea of buying things from a man whose clothes more likely than not reek with infection!  Dear me!  Has he never reflected where those fellows live?  Destroy the thing at once and wash your hands very carefully, I beg.  I do hope you haven’t been making pastry or lemonade?  As if the inevitable risks of life were not enough.”

It was, of course, utterly unsuspected by the elder members of the household that Christopher had “formed a connexion,” in so innocent a sense, with a young woman who sold programmes and took tips at the theatre.  That connexion had come about in the simplest way.  One Sunday evening, a year ago, Christopher was returning from Clapham Common on the top of a crowded tram, and next to him sat a girl with a fresh colour, whom he eyed with respectfully furtive admiration.  This young person had paid her fare, but carelessly dropped the ticket, and it chanced that an inspector who came on board at a certain point raised the question whether she had really paid.  The conductor weakly expressed a doubt, suggesting that this passenger had ascended with two or three other people since his last collection of fares.  Here was a chance for young Mr. Parish, who could give conscientious evidence.  Very hot in the face, he declared, affirmed, and asseverated that the young lady was telling the truth, and his energy at length prevailed.  Of course, this led to colloquy between the two.  Polly Sparkes, for she it was, behaved modestly but graciously.  It was true she had exhibited short temper in her passage with the officials, but Christopher thought this a becoming spirit.  In his eyes she was lovely, and could do nothing amiss.  When she alighted he did so too, frowning upon the conductor by way of final rebuke.  Their ways appeared to be the same, as if inadvertently they walked together along Kennington Road.  And so pleasant was their conversation that Polly went some way past Mrs. Bubb’s before saying that she must bid her new companion good-bye.  Trembling at his audacity, Christopher humbly put the question whether he might not hope to see the young lady again; and Polly laughed and tittered, and said she didn’t know, but p’r’aps.  Thereupon Mr. Parish nervously made an offering of his name and address, and Polly, tittering again, exclaimed that they lived quite near each other, and playfully made known the position of her dwelling.  So were the proprieties complied with, and so began the enslavement of Christopher.