"Yes, yes, I know." Mrs. Talbot thought best to change the subject. "Will you not have breakfast with me, Mr. Palmer?"
"With pleasure," answered the young man. "But I—er—I would like to brush and wash up first."
"To be sure." Mrs. Talbot surveyed him critically. "I really believe some of Robert's clothing would fit you. At least his coat would."
"Yes, his coat would."
"Then I can perhaps replace that torn garment you are wearing."
Mrs. Talbot was as good as her word, and half an hour later Livingston Palmer came down from the room Robert had occupied, thoroughly brushed and washed and wearing a coat and vest which had belonged to the boy. They were rather tight, it is true, but they were almost new, and a vast improvement over the ragged garments Palmer had worn upon presenting himself.
A substantial breakfast followed, of fish, omelet, hot rolls, and coffee, and it is perhaps needless to say that Palmer did full justice to all that was set before him. And small wonder, for he had eaten nothing since the afternoon of the day before.
It was nearly noon before the young man prepared to take his departure, with twenty dollars in his pocket, which he had insisted should be a loan only, to be paid back as soon as the opportunity afforded.
"I am very grateful to you, Mrs. Talbot," he said, on parting. "You have treated me like a king. Why Robert should leave such a home and such a mother I can't understand."
Mrs. Talbot was visibly affected.