"Yes, this is my son," Burton admitted, quietly. "Go and shake hands with Mr. Bomford, Alfred."
The child crossed the room and held out his hand with grave self-possession.
"It is very kind of you to come and see father," he said. "I am afraid that sometimes he is very lonely here. I will go away and leave you to talk."
Mr. Bomford fumbled in his pocket.
"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "Dear me! Ah, here is a half-crown! You must buy some chocolates or something to-morrow, young man. Or a gun, eh? Can one buy a gun for half-a-crown?"
Alfred smiled at him.
"It is very kind of you, sir," he said slowly. "I do not care for chocolate or guns, but if my father would allow me to accept your present, I should like very much to buy a larger drawing block."
Mr. Bomford looked at the child and looked at his father.
"Buy anything you like," he murmured weakly,—"anything you like at all."
The child glanced towards his father. Burton nodded.