The doctor listened without interruption till after the tale was done; then he asked:
“How about that wandering melody of kindness, eh, my boy?”
“I don’t know what you mean. I mean—I—I——”
Down in his warm heart Towsley did know, though he hated to acknowledge it. He tried to justify himself in his own eyes as well as in those of the good physician.
“She hadn’t any right to take away my clothes. All the clothes I had. She took away my name, too.”
“Were they very good clothes, Towsley?”
“No. But they were mine!” fiercely.
“And the name. Is it a very honorable name, laddie?”
“It’s just as honorable as I make it, sir! I needn’t be an Alley boy always, just because—because—nobody knows who my folks were.”
“No, indeed. That you need not. That you will not be, for you’ve the spirit to succeed. Only you need a little of the spirit of generosity, too. The wandering melody again, you see. We can never quite get away from it. Now, I’m going on my rounds through the wards. I’ll stop in, after an hour or so, and see if you have any errand for me to do. Good-by. Take a nap, then think it over. I’ll be back again.”