“Makes you realise,” admitted the youth soberly, “when you get down into the country, that some one else besides man has had to do with the making of the world. If you gentlemen don’t mind coming over here, you’ll be able to catch a glimpse of where my mother and my sister live. There!” he cried exultantly. “You just saw it, didn’t you, between the trees. Smoke coming out of the chimney. That means—” He pressed his hand against his under-lip. “That means they’re preparing. You’ve no idea what a lot they think of me. If they’re at the station, you’ll have a chance of seeing them. Goodbye all. Hope you’ll enjoy yourselves as much as I’m going to.”
He stepped out before the train ceased to move, and looked up and down the platform with eagerness and some anxiety. An elderly woman in black and a short girl waved excitedly to him from the inside of the doorway of the booking-office; he ran across, and, dropping the bag, kissed them affectionately.
“You dear, dear blessing!” cried the mother.
VI—RETIRING INSPECTOR
Inspector Richards mentioned to several of the staff that, whilst he had often taken part in the presentation of testimonials, he specially wished that no tribute of a valuable nature should be paid to him on his retirement, and the men, after private consideration, took him at his word. The night of his departure was the occasion, nevertheless, for many touching incidents. Inspector Richards made a point of shaking hands with all those inferior to him in position; a compliment they accepted shyly, after rubbing the palm down the side of trousers.
“Always been my desire,” he said benevolently, “to treat every one alike, and I trust I’ve succeeded.”
“You’ve done it, sir. No mistake about that.”
“I hope I have never shown anything in the shape of favouritism.”
“There again, sir, you’re right.”
“I am anxious to express the desire that nothing but what I may call kindly thoughts will be entertained concerning me when I leave the duties I have so long carried out,” said Inspector Richards elaborately, “and there’s no objection to you mentioning it, as freely as you like, that I shall be glad to see old friends at any hour, and any time, from half-past eight in the morning till eleven o’clock o’ night at three-two-seven, Hampstead Road.”