To be again in the streets, with no friendly hand to help him, he naturally enough dreaded, more especially as he had now tasted the sweets of a comfortable home, for it was a home to him who had been for so long a time a sort of Arab, or outcast.
On the following morning, at his earnest solicitation, his mistress allowed him to try his luck for another day with the telescopes.
Upon his returning in the evening he discovered, much to his surprise, a gentleman at the door—this being none other than the good Samaritan who had presented him with a shilling at the corner of Parliament-street.
He touched his forelock, and made a respectful bow to the stranger, who eyed him in a most inquiring and searching way.
“Umph! I hardly knew you again,” cried Peace, for it was he.
“Got a suit of new togs, it appears.”
“Yes, sir.”
Susan now opened the door, and Mr. Peace inquired if the mistress was in.
He was shown into the first floor.
He had no reason to complain of the reception he met with from his quondam companion—Laura Stanbridge—who professed herself delighted to see him.