“You shall have that. But I can’t tell just when I shall be able to come. Never fear but I’ll find you. Here is something because you and Bess posed.”
It was a five-dollar note. Dil drew back in dismay.
“O mister, I couldn’t take it. I’m afeard some one’d think I stole it—so much money!”
He changed the bill into smaller ones. Then he slipped it into the bag of fruit.
“This is Bess’s bank,” he said, with a friendly, trusty smile. “When she wants any delicacies, you must spend the money for them. It is Bess’s secret, and you must not tell any one.”
He thrust the bag at the foot of the shabby carriage, and then pressed both hands.
“You’re so lovely, so splendid,” sighed Bess.
He picked up three withered buds—had some hands very dear to him held them?
“Good-by. I shall find Barker’s Court and you, never fear.” Then he plunged into the crowd, not daring to look back. What a week it had been, beginning with sorrow and loss, and—had he found the Master? Had these strange, brave little heathens, who knew not God, opened his eyes and his heart to that better way?