red
friend he thought to himself, "I wonder whether he has considered what
I said?"

"The last time we met, Tommy," began "Cobbler" Horn, as though in answer
to the unspoken question of the little man--"But, sit down, friend, sit
down."

Tommy protested that he would rather stand; but, being overborne, he
effected a compromise, by placing himself quite forward on the edge of
the chair, and depositing his hat on the floor, between his feet.

"You remember the time?" resumed "Cobbler" Horn.

"Oh yes; quite well!"

"It was the afternoon of the day I was taken ill."

"Yes; and Mrs. Bunn said you _would_ go out in that dreadful rain."

Tommy did not add that he himself, watching through his shop window, in
the hope that his friend would come across to ask the meaning of his
mysterious words, had, with a sinking heart, seen him walk off in the
opposite direction through the drenching shower.

"Well," said "Cobbler" Horn, with a smile, "I've had to pay for that, and
shall be all the wiser, no doubt. But there was something you said that
afternoon that I want to ask you about. At the time I thought I knew what
you meant. But I am inclined now to think I was mistaken, and that your
words referred to something quite different from what I then supposed. Do
you remember what you said?"

It was impossible for Tommy Dudgeon to conceal the agitation of his mind.
He rejoiced at the opportunity to make known his great discovery to his
friend; and yet he trembled lest he should prove unequal to the task. He
thought, for a moment, that he would gain time by seeming not to
understand the reference his friend had made.

"What words do you speak of, chiefly, Mr. Horn?" he asked tremulously, "I
said so many----"

But Tommy Dudgeon could not dissemble. He stammered, stopped, wiped his
forehead, and stretched out his hands as though in appeal to the mercy of
his hearers.

"Of course I know what words you mean!" he cried. "I wanted to tell you of
something I had seen for weeks, but that you didn't seem to see. And I can
see it still; and there's no mistake about it. I'm as certain sure of it,
as that I am sitting on this chair. It was about the sec'tary, and some
one else; and yet not anybody else, because they're both the same. May I
tell you, Mr. Horn? Can you bear it, do you think?"

"The Golden Shoemaker" regarded the eager face of his little friend with
glistening eyes; and Miss Jemima, leaning towards him over the framework