“Stou thet, mother. It was my fault,” said the sobered man, and then the woman began to cry. At the next minute John Storm was going with mother and son into the shut-up pawnshop, and the unhinged door was being propped behind them.
The crowd was trailing off when he came out again half an hour afterward, and the only commotion remaining was caused by a belated policeman asking, “Wot's bin the matter 'ere?” and by the young fellow with the gin bottle performing a step-dance on the pavement before the entrance to the cellar. The old woman stood at her door wiping her eyes on her apron, and her son was behind with a face that was now red from other causes than drink and rage.
“Good-bye, Mrs. Pincher; I may see you again soon.”
Hearing this, the young swaggerer stopped his step-dancing and cried: “What cheer, myte? Was it a blowter and a cup of cawfy?”
“For shynie, Charlie!” cried the girl with a baby, and the young fellow answered, “Shut yer 'ead, Aggie!”
The waiter was still at the corner of the court, and when John came up he spoke again. “There must be sem amoosement knockin' women abart, but I can't see it myself.” Then in a simple way he began to talk about his “missis,” and what a good creature she was, and finally announced himself “gyme” to help a parson “as stood up to that there drunken blowke for sake of a woman.”
“What's your name?” said John.
“Jupe,” said the man, and then something stirred in John's memory.
On the following day John Storm dined with his uncle at Downing Street. The Prime Minister was waiting in the library. In evening dress, with his back to the fireplace and his hands enlaced behind him, he looked even more thin and gaunt than before. He welcomed John with a few familiar words and a smile. His smile was brief and difficult, like that which drags across the face of an invalid. Dinner was announced immediately, and the old man took the young one's arm and they passed into the dining-room.
The panelled chamber looked cold and cheerless. It was lighted by a single lamp in the middle of the table. They took their seats at opposite sides. The statesman's thin hair shone on his head like streaks of silver. John exercised a strong physical influence upon him, and all through the dinner his bleak face kept smiling.