e than ten
minutes he had cleared the mile which lay between his lodgings and that
of his cousin Reginald Trevor, senior curate of S. Bridget's East, and
had burst in just as the latter was sitting down to his breakfast after
morning service. And then Lawrence told his story, his voice shaking a
little as he spoke of Wikkey's strange devotion to himself, and of the
weary watch which had no doubt helped on the disease which was killing
him, and he wound up with--

"And now, Reg, what is a fellow to do? I suppose I'm a fool, but I
can't send the little chap away!"

The curate's voice was a little husky too.

"If that is folly, commend me to a fool," he said: and then, after some
moments of silent thought--"I don't see why you should not keep the boy,
Lawrence; you have no one to think of except yourself, unless, indeed,
Mrs. Evans--"

"Oh, she's all right!" broke in his cousin; "I believe she has taken a
fancy to Wikkey."

"Then I do not see why you should not take your own way in the matter,
provided always that the boy's belongings do not stand in the way. You
must consider that, Lawrence; you may be bringing a swarm about you, and
Wikkey's relations may not prove as disinterested as himself."

"But that is just the beauty of it; he hasn't any belongings, for I
asked him; beyond paying a shilling for a bed to some hag he calls
Skimmidge, he seems to have no tie to any living creature."

"That being so," said Reginald, slowly; "and if you do not feel alarmed
about your spoons, I don't see why you should not make the little soul
happy, and"--he added with a smile--"get a blessing too, old fellow,
though I doubt you will bring a sad time on yourself, Lawrence."

Lawrence gave a sort of self-pitying little shrug, but did not look
daunted, and his cousin went on--

"Meanwhile, I think the hag ought to be made aware of your intentions;
she will be looking out for her rent."

"Bother! I forgot all about that," exclaimed Lawrence, "and I haven't a
minute to spare; I must race back to set the boy's mind at rest, and its
close upon nine now. What's to be done?"

"Look here, I'll come back with you now, and if you can get me Mrs.
Skimmidge's address I'll go and settle matters with her and glean any
information I can about the boy: she may possibly be more communicative
to me than to you. I know the sort, you see."

As Lawrence encountered Wikkey's penetrating gaze, he felt glad that his
mind was made up; and when th