"Well then, had you not better come in and take 'pot-luck' with me?"
Paul did not know what "pot-luck" was, but he felt very much inclined to accept his new friend's invitation. Still he hesitated.
"Ah! I see how it is!" cried the stranger, "You are afraid that if you stay away so long your mother will be anxious. That 's right, my boy, that 's quite right!"
Paul suddenly burst into tears.
"My mother is dead! She died last winter; and oh, I wish—I wish"
The old gentleman's silk waistcoat seemed to have come close to the weeping child, he did not know how; he could only lean against it and sob. And then he heard the old gentleman whispering huskily,—
"There—I'm sorry I said it! Don't cry, my dear, don't cry. Ah! me, it doesn't feel like fifty years since my mother died!"
