“I thought, old friend,” he said, turning to Tommy Dudgeon, “that perhaps you might be willing to accept a trifling memento of our long acquaintance. And, indeed, you mustn’t say no.”
John Dudgeon was too deeply engaged with the twins to note what was said; Tommy but dimly perceived the drift of his friend; but upon Mrs. John the full truth flashed with the clearness of noon.
The next moment the notes were being transferred to the hands of the astonished Tommy. John was still absorbed with his couple of babies. Mrs. John was ironing more furiously than ever. Tommy felt, with his finger and thumb, that there were many of the notes; and he perceived that he and his were being made the recipients of an act of stupendous generosity. Tears trickled down his cheeks; his throat and tongue were parched. He tried to thrust the bank-notes back into the hand of his friend.
“Mr. Horn, you must not beggar yourself on our account.”
“Cobbler” laughed. In truth, he was much relieved. It seemed that his humble friend objected to his gift only because he thought it was too large.
“‘Beggar’ myself, Tommy?” he cried. “I should have to be a very reckless spendthrift indeed to do that. You forget how dreadfully rich I am. Why these paltry notes are a mere nothing to such a wealth-encumbered unfortunate as I. But I thought the money would be a help to you. And you must take it, Tommy, you must indeed. The Lord told me to give it to you; and what shall I say to Him, if I allow you to refuse His gift?”
And so the generous will of “the Golden Shoemaker” prevailed; and if he could have heard and seen all that took place by that humble fireside, after he was gone, he would have been assured that at least one small portion of his uncle’s wealth had been well-bestowed.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE NEW HOUSE.