“Mr. Harris,” said the landlady’s gentle voice, “it is almost eight o’clock.”
“Great Scott!” thought Guy, “and I ought to be at the store this very moment. I don’t see how I can stand it to work all day, feeling as I do. I’ll have to fill up on beer again before my hand will be steady enough to hold a pen. Yes, ma’am,” he added aloud. “I will be down immediately. I declare my voice has changed, too. I’m not myself at all. I feel as if I were going to drop all to pieces.”
The announcement that it was time for him to be at work infused some life into Guy. By the aid of a clean shirt and collar and copious ablutions he made a little improvement in his appearance, but the general feeling of worthlessness and the overwhelming sense of shame that pressed upon him, could not be touched by cold water and clean linen. The thought that he must spend the next ten hours in contact with his fellow-men was terrible. He did not want to see anybody. He opened the door very carefully, and went down the stairs with noiseless footsteps, intending to leave the house before his landlady should see him; but she was on the watch. She met him in the hall, and there was something in her eye which told Guy that she knew at least a part of the incidents that had happened the night before.
“Good morning, Mr. Harris,” said she, with her usual pleasant and motherly smile, “I have kept your breakfast warm for you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Willis,” said Guy, in a very unsteady voice, “but I cannot stop to eat anything; I am late now. Besides, I am not hungry.”
“No matter; you can’t work all day without taking something nourishing,” returned the landlady, and as she spoke she took Guy’s arm, and paying no heed to his remonstrances led him into the cozy little dining-room, and seated him at the table.
A tempting breakfast, consisting of his favorite dishes and a cup of coffee, such as Mrs. Willis only could make, was placed before him, but Guy could not eat. He wished he could sink through the floor out of the lady’s sight. He wished she would go away and leave him to the companionship of his gloomy thoughts; but she had no intention of doing anything of the kind. She closed all the doors, and then came and stood by the boy’s side with her hand resting on the back of his chair.
“Guy,” said she sorrowfully, “what made you do it?”
The clerk stirred his coffee, but could make no reply.
“I know you will forgive me for speaking about this,” said Mrs. Willis, laying her soft, cool hand on Guy’s feverish forehead, “I do it because I feel a mothers interest in you. I have a son somewhere in the wide world, and if he should fall into such ruinous habits as these, I should feel very grateful if some kind soul would whisper a word of warning in his ear. Stop and think of it, Guy! Stop now, while you can. What would your dear mother say?”