"Ceil! E come una man
Che sul baccio mi posa!
Ah! Io rido in poter
Me stessa qui veder!"
The last trill brought him close to Dr. Spenlove.
"Friend, friend!" cried the doctor, "a word with you, for charity's sake."
Mr. Moss did not disregard the appeal. Slipping off his right glove, and thereby displaying two fingers decorated with diamond rings, he fished a couple of coppers from a capacious pocket, and thrust them into Dr. Spenlove's outstretched palm. Dr. Spenlove caught his hand and said:
"No, no, it is not for that. Will you kindly tell me----"
"Why," interrupted Mr. Moss, "it is Dr. Spenlove!"
"Mr. Moss," said Dr. Spenlove, with a sigh of relief, "I am glad it is you--I am glad it is you."
"Not gladder than I am," responded Mr. Moss jovially. "Even in weather like this I shouldn't care to be anybody else but myself."
This feeble attempt at humor was lost upon Dr. Spenlove.
"You have come from the direction I am taking, and you may have seen a person I am looking for--a woman with a baby in her arms--a poor woman, Mr. Moss, whom I am most anxious to find."