"Come in, Mr. Maine, and sit down; I am glad to have an opportunity of chatting with you. It would never do for you to have tea with the others now, you know."
"No, to be sure," agreed Giles blankly.
"Well, and how are you, Mr. Maine? Most comfortable and happy, Mrs. Tapper tells me."
"'E-es, mum," returned Giles mournfully.
"Sugar and milk, Mr. Maine?"
"Thankee, mum, I likes it best pure naked. I'd be thankful to 'ee, mum, if ye wouldn't call me Mr. Maine; it don't seem naitral like."
"Perhaps not," agreed the matron, with a kindly laugh. "Well, Giles—I'll say Giles, then—Giles, do you know that you are quite a remarkable person? They have been writing about you in the papers. 'A lucky pauper,' they call you."
"Have they now, mum?" returned Maine, staring at her over the rim of his cup.
"Yes, indeed, and people have been writing to me to know the particulars. 'Tis not often, you see, such a stroke of good fortune befalls an inmate of the Union."
"I s'pose not," he agreed, between two gulps of tea.