not a bad act, and the person who does such an act should naturally feel pleased. Now what was the reason for this feeling of lonesomeness which stole over Mr. A? What on earth was the cause of it? He had the feeling of one who had secretly done something wrong.
Was it because he felt some vain pride at having done a good act, and that such pride was being criticised, betrayed and scorned by his natural conscience? He might have felt less concerned if he had looked upon his act with less exaggeration and with less nerves. Unconsciously he might have been over-biassed. At any rate he certainly had done nothing shameful. He therefore felt that he should at least have no cause to feel so uneasy.
According to a previous appointment, Mr. B. was waiting for him that afternoon, and in the evening getting into Mr. B’s car, they drove to a concert which was being given by Mrs. Y. Late that night Mr. A. returned home. After having listened to the music, he had quite forgotten his feeling of lonesomeness.
“Oh, thank you so such for the pretty scales, my dear,” said his wife, when he arrived home, and as he had supposed, she was very pleased with what he had bought for her. His child was already asleep, but his wife told him of the rapture of their child after it had seen the scales.
“By the way, you remember the shop-boy who I told you about some days ago ? Well, I met him again to-day.”
“O, dear! Where did you meet him?”
