“Sam!” he said, and his voice was very gentle, although he was perfectly conscious that behind him there were two more shadows of men and more might be lurking in the dark corners. “Sam, if you remember me you will know I couldn’t forget; and I do care. I came back to find you. I’ve always meant to come, all the time I was in college. I’ve had it in mind to come back here and make some of the hard things easier for”—he hesitated, and—“for us all.”
“How did yous figger yous was goin’ to do that?” Sam asked, his little shifty eyes narrowing on Michael, as he purposely struck another match to watch the effect of his words.
Then Michael’s wonderful smile lit up his face, and Sam, however much he may have pretended to doubt, knew in his deepest heart that this was the same Mikky of old. There was no mistaking that smile.
“I shall need you to help me in figuring that out, Sam. That’s why I was so anxious to find you.”
A curious grunt from behind Michael warned him that the audience was being amused at the expense of Sam, Sam’s brows were lowering.
“Humph!” he said, ungraciously striking a third match just in time to watch Michael’s face. “Where’s yer pile?”
“What?”
“Got the dough?”
“Oh,” said Michael comprehendingly, “no, I haven’t got money, Sam. I’ve only my education.”
“An’ wot good’s it, I’d like to know. Tell me those?”