'But, at the same time, if you wish me to stop with you--'
'Go home.'
The man slunk away, as if ashamed; the Stranger followed him with His eyes. When he had gone a few yards he hesitated, stopped, turned, and, when he saw that the Stranger's eyes were fixed on him, he made as if to retrace his steps. But the Stranger said:
'Go home.'
Taking the gently spoken words as a positive command, the man, as if actuated by an uncontrollable impulse, or by sudden fear, wheeling round again upon his heels, ran out of the park as fast as he was able. When the man had vanished, the Stranger, looking about Him, found that the number of His attendants had dwindled to a scanty few. To them He said:
'Why do you stay? Why do you, also, not go home?'
A fellow replied--his coat was buttoned to his chin; his hands were in his pockets; a handkerchief was round his neck:
'Well, gov'nor, I reckon it's because some of us ain't got much of a 'ome to go to. I know I ain't. A seat in 'ere'll be about my mark-- that is, if the coppers'll let me be.'
Again the Stranger's glance passed round the remnant which remained. As the fellow's speech suggested, it was a motley gathering. All told, it numbered, perhaps, a dozen--all that was left of the great crowd which had been there a moment ago. Three or four were women, the rest were men. They stood a little distance off, singly--one here and there. As far as could be seen in the uncertain light, all were poorly clad, most were in rags--a tatterdemalion crew, the sweepings of the streets.
'Are you all homeless, as I am?'