The sympathy of that young woman in the shop, into which he stumbled by mistake, had touched him. She knew. It was not pity,—that he despised,—but a sort of fellowship in misfortune, and he had seized upon it hungrily, even while he called himself a fool. Perhaps it was this slight but softening experience which made possible to-day the faint regret that a little child was to be disappointed about this cake.
Such feelings could not find a harbor for long in that impatient breast. Becoming aware of sounds in the hall, Giant Despair strode across the room and flung open the door, intending to demand the instant removal of the cake. He was confronted by a small boy in a red coat and cap who cried excitedly, "Has you got my birfday cake?"
"Hey? So it is yours, is it? And who are you?"
But its owner had caught sight of it through the open door; and pushing past Giant Despair, he lifted up his voice in a pæan of joy. "It's here! it's here! it's here!" he cried, standing before the desk with clasped hands and uplifted eyes, like a worshipper before a shrine. "Somebody give it to me! It's mine!"
"Where did that child come from?" asked Giant Despair, as he spoke becoming aware of the presence of some one else in the hall.
"I brought him, Mr. Goodman. It is Miss Carpenter of the shop." Marion advanced. "It is James Mandeville Norton, a small friend of ours, to whom we had promised a birthday cake. He was on the watch for it and was quite sure he saw it carried in here, and to pacify him I ventured to come and inquire."
If Giant Despair could ever be said to be affable he became so at this moment, to the evident astonishment of Annie, the maid. She could not know of the bond of sympathy that existed between this graceful young lady and her surly master.
"Why, how do you do? Come in;—ridiculous mistake. Glad to find the owner," he stammered, offering her a chair. "Fearful weather," he added, poking the fire.
"Very Novemberish," Marion agreed, declining the chair. "We won't trouble you further," she said.
"Somebody please give me my cake. It's mine; I know it's mine." James Mandeville's voice betrayed anguish of soul.