"This one is mine," he says. "If you do come to the city, you are surely to let me know that you are there. And if you take this other card to this address here, this gentleman may be able to give you work. Now good-by. I'm going to cut through the meadow, and I suppose you'll be going back."
He put out his hand.
"Don't go," I says. "Don't go. I shan't ever find anybody to talk to again."
"That's part of your job, you know," he says. "Remember you have a job. Good-by, child."
He went off down the slope. At the foot of it he stopped.
"Cosma!" he shouts, "don't ever let them call you anything else, you know!"
"I won't," I says. "Honest, I won't, Mr. Ember."
I watched him just as far as I could see him. On the road he turned and waved his hand. When he was out of sight I started to go back home. But when I see things again, I'll never forget the lonesomeness. Things was like a sucked-out sack. I laid down in the grass—I haven't cried since the last time Pa whipped me, six years ago, but I thought I was going to cry now. Then I happened to think that was the way I'd have done before I met him; but it wasn't the way I must do now. Instead, I got up on to my feet and I started for home on the run. It was like something was starting somewheres, and I had to hurry.