"I would stay," he replied, "if you bid me stay—or go, if you bid me go."
"I would bid you stay," she replied, speaking as clearly and as firmly as she could, "because I like your society, and because you have been, and will still be, I hope, very helpful to us. But if I bid you stay," she laid her hand upon his arm, "it must be on no misunderstanding."
"I am your servant," he said, with a little agitation in his voice. "I understood nothing but what you wish me to understand."
CHAPTER XV. A SPLENDID OFFER.
It was a strange coincidence that only two days after this conversation with Miss Kennedy, Harry received his first offer of employment.
It came from the brewery, and was in the first instance a mere note sent by a clerk inviting "H. Goslett" to call at the accountant's office at ten in the morning. The name, standing bare and naked by itself, without any preliminary title of respect—Mister, Master, or Sieur—presented, Harry thought, a very miserable appearance. Perhaps it would be difficult to find a readier method of insulting a man than to hurl his own name at his head. One may understand how Louis Capet must have felt when thus reduced to a plain simplicity.
"What on earth," Harry asked, forgetting his trade, "can they want with me?"
In business houses, working-men, even of the gentle craft of cabinet-making, generally carry with them tools, sometimes wear an apron, always have their trousers turned up, and never wear a collar—using, instead, a red muffler, which keeps the throat warmer, and does not so readily show the effect of London fog and smoke. Also, some of their garments are made of corduroy and their jackets have bulging pockets, and their hats not unfrequently have a pipe stuck into them. This young working-man repaired to the trysting-place in the easy attire in which he was wont to roam about the bowers of the East End. That is to say, he looked like a carelessly-dressed gentleman.
Harry found at the office his uncle, Mr. Bunker, who snorted when he saw his nephew.