't hankering to get my living by singing. Anyway, that's not
worrying me now--it's Tommy. Mister Epstein says he can guess, but he
won't tell."

"Guess what's troubling Tommy?"

"Yes--and I wish I did. Maybe I could help--if I am only a boy."

"Well, we'll have to go slowly, William; it won't do to intrude on a
man's private affairs."

"That's what Jimmy Duggan said when he laid out the burglar what was
crackin' his safe in the coal yard office; only this is diff'rent;
nobody ain't swipin' Tommy's money. I asked him and he says to me,
'Willyum, you know what our old friend Bill Shakespeare says.' And I
says, 'What?' 'Well,' he says, 'Bill has a few lines to say it don't
matter much who swipes me purse, it's what hits me heart that counts.'"

"Um--well, that may be Tommy's version of it: Shakespeare's was
somewhat different."

There the conversation dropped. Whimple thought no more about it until
the following Monday night when he received from Epstein an invitation
to go to the Variety with him. He met the old comedian at the door of
the theatre, and found Watson and William with him. They had seats in
the front row of the balcony. Epstein and Whimple sat together, Watson
next to the barrister, and William next to Watson. It was a fair bill
as vaudeville bills go, with Flo Dearmore about half-way down on the
programme. Whimple noticed that Watson paid no heed to the various
turns, though William was revelling in them. But when Flo Dearmore's
number went up he saw Watson lean forward with his arms on the rail in
front of him, and even in the vague light of the semi-darkened theatre
he noticed that his face was pale and drawn. The very simplicity of
"the turn" constituted one of its greatest charms. Flo came on the
stage and sang in a pure contralto voice several old country songs. A
pretty woman she was, not tall, but gracefully formed, with dark blue
eyes and a wealth of black hair, crowning a well-shaped head. She was
a remarkably expressive singer--you saw the scenes of her songs as
clearly as though you were wandering through them with Flo by your
side. The applause was heartier with every song; it grew into an
outburst of cheering when she sang "Come Back to Erin:" and at its
close bowed and smiled her acknowledgments. She would have left the
stage then, but the audience would not have it. Again and again she
advanced and bowed her thanks, and again and again the cheering rolled
out. Fina