“I don’t know, sir—months.”
“Ah!” Then as he held my hand tightly, he said in a half-mocking way, “Do you know when I came into the office I envied you, my boy, for I said, Here is one who has begun on the stool, and he’ll grow up to be a rich City man.”
“I don’t think I shall, sir,” I said, with a laugh.
“No,” he said, “you are of the wrong stuff, boy. Do you know that you are a weak young idiot to come and offer me, a perfect stranger, all that money—a man you have never seen before, and may never see again? How do you know I am not an impostor?”
“I don’t know how, sir,” I said, “but I can see you are not.”
He pressed my hand more firmly, and I saw his lips move for a few moments, but no sound came. Then softly—
“Thank you, my lad,” he said. “You have given me a lesson. I was saying that it was a hard and a bitter and cruel world, when you came up to show me that it is full of hope and sunshine and joy after all if we only seek it. I don’t know who you are, but your father, boy, must have been a gentleman at heart, and your mother as true a lady as ever breathed. Ah!”
He bent towards me as he still held my hand, for he must have read the change in my face, for his words sent a curious pang through me.
“Your mother is—?” He finished his question with a look.
I nodded, and set my teeth hard.