"What--is--the--matter?" repeated Mr. Clarkson. "Ain't you well?"

Mr. Smithson swayed a little, and sank slowly back into his chair again.

"Room's too hot," said his astonished host.

Mr. Smithson, staring straight before him, nodded.

"As I was saying," resumed Mr. Clarkson, in the low tones of confidence,
"Digson was after her money. Of course her money don't make any
difference to me, although, perhaps, I may be able to do something for
friends like you. It's from an uncle in America on her mother's--"

Mr. Smithson made a strange moaning noise, and, snatching his hat from
the table, clapped it on his head and made for the door. Mr. Clarkson
flung his arms around him and dragged him back by main force.

"What are you carrying on like that for?" he demanded. "What do you mean
by it?"

"Fancy!" returned Mr. Smithson, with intense bitterness. "I thought
Digson was the biggest fool in the place, and I find I've made a
mistake. So have you. Good-night."

He opened the door and dashed out. Mr. Clarkson, with a strange sinking
at his heart, watched him up the road.

THE GUARDIAN ANGEL

[Illustration: "The lodger was standing at the foot o' Ginger's bed,
going through 'is pockets."]

The night-watchman shook his head. "I never met any of these phil--
philantherpists, as you call 'em," he said, decidedly. "If I 'ad they
wouldn't 'ave got away from me in a hurry, I can tell you. I don't say I
don't believe in 'em; I only say I never met any of 'em. If people do
you a kindness it's generally because they want to get something out of
you; same as a man once--a perfick stranger--wot stood me eight
'arf-pints becos I reminded 'im of his dead brother, and then borrered
five bob off of me.

"O' course, there must be some kind-'arted people in the world--all men
who get married must 'ave a soft spot somewhere, if it's only in the
'ead--but they don't often give things away. Kind-'artedness is often
only another name for artfulness, same as Sam Small's kindness to Ginger
Dick and Peter Russet.

"It started with a row. They was just back from a v'y'ge and 'ad taken a
nice room together in Wapping, and for the fust day or two, wot with
'aving plenty o' money to spend and nothing to do, they was like three
brothers. Then, in a little, old-fashioned public-'ouse down Poplar way,
one night they fell out over a little joke Ginger played on Sam.

"It was the fust drink that evening, and Sam 'ad