There was a moment’s silence, and then John looked up. He found his companion’s eyes fixed upon him with his usual half smile of observation, and dubious humorous uncertainty. When John met his eye he changed his position a little with a momentary laugh.
‘I have been so long out of the habit of thinking a name necessary,’ he said. ‘My name is——’ He paused again, and once more looked at John, in whose face there was no suspicious anxiety, but only a friendly alertness of interest. Something mischievous and mirthful lighted up in the stranger’s eyes: ‘My name is—March,’ he said.
‘And mine is Sandford,’ replied John.
The mischievous light went out of the other’s look. His face grew serious; he nodded his head two or three times with gravity.
‘I know that,’ he said. ‘It is a name that I have had a great deal to do with in my life; but I don’t suppose you ever heard of me.’
John shook his head. He cleared away with his own hand the last remnants of the luncheon, over which enough time had been expended.
‘Now we’ll get to work again if you are ready,’ he said.
He knew nothing of any March. He was not aware that he had ever heard the name. And then they set to work again together pleasantly, cheerfully; John finding something inspiriting in the companionship for all the rest of the afternoon.
Next day the young man presented himself at the office, though his leave was not yet exhausted. But he did not go naturally to his own desk, to look if there were letters or special orders for him. He marched straight to the door within which the younger partner, the son of the Mr. Barrett who had received him into the office, and whom John had always found severe, had his throne. The younger Mr. Barrett was far more favourable to the young man than his father had ever been, and never spoke to him of the hospital, or the duty which lay upon him to repay his mother for her kindness, which was what the elder invariably did. It is not a subject which is agreeable even to the most dutiful of children. Repay your mother for all that she has done for you! Who could bear that odious advice? John was not angelic enough to be pleased by it. And when he had the choice it was to Mr. William Barrett that he betook himself. He found that personage in a very cheerful condition, and delighted to see him.
‘You are the very man I want. You must go off at once to those works at Hampstead. They’ve got into a mess, and no one can clear it up better than you. I was just wishing for you. But your leave is not out: how is it you’ve come back before your time?’