rby, retired from the business of a draper, and spending his last
years pleasantly enough with a daughter who had remained single. Edwin
had always been a favourite with his grandfather, though they had met
only once or twice during the past eight years. But in writing he did
not allow it to be understood that he was in actual want, and he felt
that he must come to dire extremities before he could bring himself to
beg assistance.

He had begun to answer advertisements, but the state of his wardrobe
forbade his applying for any but humble positions. Once or twice he
presented himself personally at offices, but his reception was so
mortifying that death by hunger seemed preferable to a continuance of
such experiences. The injury to his pride made him savagely arrogant;
for days after the last rejection he hid himself in his garret, hating
the world.

He sold his little collection of books, and of course they brought only
a trifling sum. That exhausted, he must begin to sell his clothes. And
then--?

But help was at hand. One day he saw it advertised in a newspaper that
the secretary of a hospital in the north of London was in need of a
clerk; application was to be made by letter. He wrote, and two days
later, to his astonishment, received a reply asking him to wait upon
the secretary at a certain hour. In a fever of agitation he kept the
appointment, and found that his business was with a young man in the
very highest spirits, who walked up and down a little office (the
hospital was of the 'special' order, a house of no great size), and
treated the matter in hand as an excellent joke.

'I thought, you know, of engaging someone much younger--quite a lad, in
fact. But look there! Those are the replies to my advertisement.'

He pointed to a heap of five or six hundred letters, and laughed
consumedly.

'Impossible to read them all, you know. It seemed to me that the fairest
thing would be to shake them together, stick my hand in, and take out
one by chance. If it didn't seem very promising, I would try a second
time. But the first letter was yours, and I thought the fair thing to do
was at all events to see you, you know. The fact is, I am only able to
offer a pound a week.'

'I shall be very glad indeed to take that,' said Reardon, who was bathed
in perspiration.

'Then what about references, and so on?' proceeded the young man,
chuckling and rubbing his hands together.

The applicant was engaged. He had barely s