“‘Do you remember the boy that died here?’
“‘I was not here, you know,’ said Nicholas, gently; ‘but what of him?’
“‘Why,’ replied the youth, drawing closer to his questioner’s side, ‘I was with him at night, and when it was all silent he cried no more for friends he wished to come and sit with him, but began to see faces round his bed that came from home; he said they smiled, and talked to him; and he died at last lifting his head to kiss them.’”
“‘Oh, uncle, I am so glad to see you!’ said Mrs. Kenwigs, kissing the collector affectionately on both cheeks. ‘So glad!’
“Now, this was an interesting thing. Here was a collector of water-rates, without his book, without his pen and ink, without his double knock, without his intimidation, kissing—actually kissing—an agreeable female, and leaving taxes, summonses, notices that he had called, or announcements that he would never call again, for two quarters’ due, wholly out of the question. It was pleasant to see how the company looked on, quite absorbed in the sight, and to behold the nods and winks with which they expressed their gratification at finding so much humanity in a tax-gatherer.”
“‘Mr. Nicholas!’ cried Miss La Creevy, starting in great astonishment.
“‘You have not forgotten me, I see,’ replied Nicholas, extending his hand.
“‘Why, I think I should even have known you if I had met you in the street,’ said Miss La Creevy, with a smile. ‘Hannah, another cup and saucer. Now, I’ll tell you what, young man; I’ll trouble you not to repeat the impertinence you were guilty of on the morning you went away.’