One night his name came up at a moment when Sewell was least prepared by interest or expectation to see him. He smiled to himself in running downstairs, at the reflection that he never seemed quite ready for Barker. But it was a relief to have him turn up again; there was no question of that, and Sewell showed him a face of welcome that dropped at sight of him. He scarcely new the gaunt, careworn face or the shabby figure before him, in place of the handsome, well-dressed young fellow whom he had come to greet. There seemed a sort of reversion in Barker's whole presence to the time when Sewell first found him in that room; and in whatever trouble he now was, the effect was that of his original rustic constraint.
Trouble there was of some kind, Sewell could see at a glance, and his kind heart prompted him to take Lemuel's hand between both of his. “Why, my dear boy!” he began; but he stopped and made Lemuel sit down, waited for him to speak, without further question or comment.
“Mr. Sewell,” the young man said abruptly, “you told me once you—that you sometimes had money put into your hands that you could lend.”
“Yes,” replied Sewell, with eager cordiality.
“Could I borrow about seventy-five dollars of you?”
“Why, certainly, Barker!” Sewell had not so much of what he called his flying-charity fund by him, but he instantly resolved to advance the difference out of his own pocket.
“It's to get me an outfit for horse-car conductor,” said Lemuel. “I can have the place if I can get the outfit.”
“Horse-car conductor!” reverberated Sewell. “What in the world for?”
“It's work I can do,” answered Lemuel briefly, but not resentfully.
“But there are so many other things—better—fitter—more profitable! Why did you leave Mr. Corey? I assure you that you have been a great loss to him—in every way. You don't know how much he valued you, personally. He will be only too glad to have you come back.”