bsurd. His cylinder seemed to be about three feet high; his gloves
stared their newness; the tails of his coat felt as though they wrapped
several times round his legs, and still left enough to trail upon the
floor as he sat on a chair too low for him. Never since the most
awkward stage of boyhood had he felt so little at ease "in company."
And he had a conviction that Bertha Cross was laughing at him. Her
smile was too persistent; it could only be explained as a compromise
with threatening merriment.

A gap in the conversation prompted Warburton to speak of a little
matter which was just now interesting him. It related to Mr. Potts, the
shopkeeper in Kennington Lane, whom he used to meet, but of whom for a
couple of years and more, he had quite lost sight. Stirred by reproach
of conscience, he had at length gone to make inquiries; but the name of
Potts was no longer over the shop.

"I went in and asked whether the old man was dead; no, he had retired
from business and was lodging not far away. I found the house--a rather
grimy place, and the door was opened by a decidedly grimy woman. I saw
at once that she didn't care to let me in. What was my business? and so
on; but I held firm, and got at last into a room on the second floor,
an uncomfortable sitting-room, where poor old Potts welcomed me. If
only he had known my address, he said, he should have written to tell
me the news. His son in America, the one I knew, was doing well, and
sent money every month, enough for him to live upon. 'But was he
comfortable in those lodgings? I asked. Of course I saw that he wasn't,
and I saw too that my question made him nervous. He looked at the door,
and spoke in a whisper. The upshot of it was that he had fallen into
the hands of a landlady who victimised him; just because she was an old
acquaintance, he didn't feel able to leave her. 'Shall I help you to
get away?' I asked him, and his face shone with hope. Of course the
woman was listening at the keyhole; we both knew that. When I went away
she had run half down the stairs, and I caught her angry look before
she hid it with a grin. I must find decent lodgings for the old fellow,
as soon as possible. He is being bled mercilessly."

"How very disgraceful!" exclaimed Mrs. Cross. "Really, the meanness of
some women of that class!"

Her daughter had her eyes cast down, on her lips the faintest
suggestion of a smile.

"I wonder whether we could hear of anything suitable," pursued