alked the floor and talked, and
Stoddard went to sleep on the sofa. I hired him for company.

Dolby had been agent for concerts, and theatres, and Charles Dickens and
all sorts of shows and "attractions" for many years; he had known the
human being in many aspects, and he didn't much believe in him. But the
poet did. The waifs and estrays found a friend in Stoddard: Dolby tried
to persuade him that he was dispensing his charities unworthily, but he
was never able to succeed.

One night a young American got access to Stoddard at the Concert Rooms
and told him a moving tale. He said he was living on the Surrey side,
and for some strange reason his remittances had failed to arrive from
home; he had no money, he was out of employment, and friendless; his
girl-wife and his new baby were actually suffering for food; for the
love of heaven could he lend him a sovereign until his remittances
should resume? Stoddard was deeply touched, and gave him a sovereign on
my account. Dolby scoffed, but Stoddard stood his ground. Each told me
his story later in the evening, and I backed Stoddard's judgment. Dolby
said we were women in disguise, and not a sane kind of women, either.

The next week the young man came again. His wife was ill with the
pleurisy, the baby had the bots, or something, I am not sure of the name
of the disease; the doctor and the drugs had eaten up the money, the
poor little family was starving. If Stoddard "in the kindness of his
heart could only spare him another sovereign," etc., etc. Stoddard was
much moved, and spared him a sovereign for me. Dolby was outraged. He
spoke up and said to the customer--

"Now, young man, you are going to the hotel with us and state your case
to the other member of the family. If you don't make him believe in you
I sha'n't honor this poet's drafts in your interest any longer, for I
don't believe in you myself."

The young man was quite willing. I found no fault in him. On the
contrary, I believed in him at once, and was solicitous to heal the
wounds inflicted by Dolby's too frank incredulity; therefore I did
everything I could think of to cheer him up and entertain him and make
him feel at home and comfortable. I spun many yarns; among others the
tale of Jim Wolf and the Cats. Learning that he had done something in a
small way in literature, I offered to try to find a market for him in
that line. His face lighted joyfully at that, and he said that if I
could only sell a small