"You mean that I speak a little more correctly than I used to do? Well, sir, in these two years all the time that was not spent in work was spent in study. Or, rather, as study was to me the hardest sort of work, it would be most accurate to say all the time not spent by me in manual was spent in mental labor. I had had a good public-school education in my boyhood. I wished to recover all I had lost, and to add to it. You see, Mr. Lyle, I did not want my boy and girl to be ashamed of me when, if ever, we should meet as friends," said Hartman, with his old smile.
"That they could never be. Any other than grateful and affectionate they could never be to you—if I know them."
"I believe that too. I believe my children will love me when they understand all."
"Be sure they will. But, Hartman—by the way, I like the name of Hartman, and I hope you will let me use it when we are alone, on condition that I promise never to use it when we are in company."
"As you please, Mr. Lyle."
"Then, Hartman, I was about to say that when I hear you speak of Henry Lytton's son and daughter as your boy and girl, the wonder comes over me as to whether you never think of marriage—of a wife and children of your own."
"Mr. Lyle, since my mother went away to heaven I have never felt any interest in any woman on earth. I have been interested in some girls, but they happened to be children: and I could count them with the fingers of one hand and have a finger or two left over. Let me see," said Hartman, with his odd smile. "First there was Sal's Kid."
"Sal's Kid?" echoed the minister, who had never heard the name before, but thought it a very eccentric one.
"Yes, Sal's Kid—a wild-eyed, elf-locked, olive-skinned little imp, nameless, but nicknamed Sal's Kid, who lived in a gutter called Rat Alley, down by the water-side in New York. I used to be fond of the child when I was cook's galley-boy, and our ship was in port there. I haven't seen her for ten years, yet I've never forgotten her. And I would give a great deal to know whatever became of Sal's Kid. Probably she has gone the way of the rest. They were all beggars, thieves, or worse," added Hartman, with a deep sigh.
"And the next?" inquired the minister, with a wish to recall his visitor from sorrowful thoughts.