"Dollops," he said quietly, "I wouldn't barter this inheritance—of Love—which the good Lord has given me, for all the thrones and 'specturs' and 'crash-pots' that the world could hold. For true friendship is the best inheritance of all. But there are times when a man must be allowed to go down into the deeps of his memory and take a maudlin joy in counting over the hidden pearls there. I've no doubt you do it yourself, lad—and shed a tear in solitude for the days when you had a mother to care for you, and you weren't just a frightened little sinner of an orphan boy."
"An' that's where you're dead wrong, sir," gave back Dollops with a vigorous nod of the head. "Fer I never does anyfink of the sort. Me muvver—Gawd 'elp 'er!—were a bruiser an' a footballer in one, an' there weren't an inch o' me poor little body which didn't 'ave a score of bruises upon it. As for me farver—well, I doesn't remember 'im, and no doubt it's a good fing, too.... No, sir, you've bin and gone and missed the bull's eye this time. I ain't no Wistful Willie, I ain't. You've been Muvver and Farver and Big Bruvver and all the whole darn Fambly ter me, an' if ever I finks o' the blinkin' parst, it's just that I didn't live clean and strite an'—an' decent, so's I could be a bit more worvy uv yer precious kindness.... Lord! listen ter me a-torkin' like a bloomin' sermonizer! But them's my sentiments—strite! An' so long as yer ain't wishin ter go back to—them——"
"No, I'm not wishing that at all, boy," said Cleek quietly, with an odd little smile. "So don't you worry your ginger head over such fool notions as that. The day I want to get rid of you all—Miss Lorne, yourself, and Mr. Narkom—is the day that sees me in my grave. And then I'll only be waiting to wring your hands across the Big Beyond. And if you ever mention royalties and 'specturs' and 'crash-pots' to me again, Dollops, I'll—I'll cut you out of my will.... Finished?"
"Yessir."
"Well, then, come along upstairs and smoke a weed with me. Unless you've something better to do. I've need of a man's company to-night, for my mood's maudlin, and a chat over old times will straighten things out for me."
"Rarver!" Then to himself: "Missin' Miss Ailsa, like any uvver bloomin' lovesick strain," thought Dollops to himself, with a shake of the head. "Well, orl I kin s'y is, Dollops me lad, it's a good thing you ain't in love yerself. You love yer tummy better'n the gels—and a fairer deal it is, too. Fer yer can tell when you're proper fed up, and starve a bit in consequence. But the lydies!—well, they never lets yer leave 'em alone! 'E ain't 'ad no letter this mornin'—that's wot the trouble is, bless 'is 'eart!"
So Dollops followed Cleek upstairs to his room, and in the short twilight of the summer evening sat with him, curled up on a cushion at his feet, and smoked and talked and gazed at the great Castle in front of them, almost lost in the twilight mists, like the true little gamin he was, until the lonesomeness had gone from Cleek's soul, and the night had thrown her mantle over the sky.
Then:
"Time for you to be getting into your little 'downy', old chap," he said, with a stretch and a yawn and a smile down into the eager young face that rested against his knee, as a dog might do, faithfulness in the attitude. "Or we'll be having no salmon-fishing to-morrow, for you'll be over-sleeping yourself, and the fish will have swum to other waters, getting tired of waiting for you. Cut along now, there's a good boy."
"Orl right, Guv'nor. Thank yer, sir, for this—this rippin' fine evenin'. And fer lettin' me pertend I was for the moment, like, a real pal to yer. I shan't never ferget that. Good-night, sir, and pleasant dreams."