CHAPTER V.
The moon had grown old, but the nights were still scented by the lime-trees when the Tenor met the Boy again. He had begun to believe that the Boy did not live in Morningquest; and, as often happens, he was thinking of him less than usual on this particular occasion, and hence he came upon him unawares.
The Boy was lolling against the iron railings that enclosed the grassy space round which the old lime-trees grew, in the middle of one arm of the Close. It was a bright, clear night, but chilly, and he was wrapped up in a greatcoat which lent a little substance to his slender figure. The Tenor would have passed him without recognizing him, but for his sandy hair, which shone out palely against the bark of one of the trees.
"I was waiting for you," the Boy said. "Why are you so late to-night?"
"How do you know I am later than usual to-night?" he asked.
"Because, generally, you come out about ten o'clock, and it is nearly twelve now."
"How do you happen to know I generally come out about ten o'clock?"
"Oh," the Boy answered coolly, "I watched you.' I have been studying your habits in order to find out what manner of man you are; and I think you'll do," he added patronizingly, with a wise shake of the head. "I guess you were looking for me too, weren't you?"
The Tenor smiled again, and, lifting his hat, brushed his hand back over his hair. "What makes you think so?" he asked.
"I am accustomed to that sort of thing," the Boy replied, with a twinkle in his eyes. "People who meet me once try, as a rule, to cultivate my acquaintance," with which he raised himself from his lolling posture, and added: "I'll walk up and down with you, if you like, but you must give me your arm. I require support."