ther friendly good-night all round,
left the room. Miss Tranter awaited him, candle in hand, and preceding
him up a short flight of ancient and crooked oaken stairs, showed him a
small attic room with one narrow bed in it, scrupulously neat and clean.

"You'll be all right here," she said. "There's no lock to your door, but
you're out of the truck of house work, and no one will come nigh you."

"Thank you, madam,"--and Helmsley bent his head gently, almost
humbly,--"You are very good to me. I am most grateful!"

"Nonsense!" said Miss Tranter, affecting snappishness. "You pay for a
bed, and here it is. The lodgers here generally share one room between
them, but you are an old man and need rest. It's better you should get
your sleep without any chance of disturbance. Good-night!"

"Good-night!"

She set down the candle by his bedside with a "Mind you put it out!"
final warning, and descended the stairs to see the rest of her customers
cleared off the premises, with the exception of Bill Bush, Matt Peke,
and Tom o' the Gleam, who were her frequent night lodgers. She found
Tom o' the Gleam standing up and delivering a kind of extemporary
oration, while his rough cap, under the pilotage of Bill Bush, was being
passed round the table in the fashion of a collecting plate.

"The smallest contribution thankfully received!" he laughed, as he
looked and saw her. "Miss Tranter, we're doing a mission! We're
Salvationists! Now's your chance! Give us a sixpence!"

"What for?" And setting her arms akimbo, the hostess of the "Trusty Man"
surveyed all her lingering guests with a severe face. "What games are
you up to now? It's time to clear!"

"So it is, and all the good little boys are going to bed," said Tom.
"Don't be cross, Mammy! We want to close our subscription list--that's
all! We've raised a few pennies for the old grandfather upstairs. He'll
never get to Cornwall, poor chap! He's as white as paper. Office work
doesn't fit a man of his age for tramping the road. We've collected two
shillings for him among us,--you give sixpence, and there's half-a-crown
all told. God bless the total!"

He seized his cap as it was handed back to him, and shook it, to show
that it was lined with jingling halfpence, and his eyes sparkled like
those of a child enjoying a bit of mischief.

"Come, Miss Tranter! Help the Gospel mission!"

Her features relaxed into a smile, and feeling in her apron pocket, she
produced the requested coin.