thorne happened to be at home; so the cabman was paid, and Joseph went up to the second floor. In his shabby little room Scawthorne sat smoking and reading. It was a season of impecuniosity with him, and his mood was anything but cheerful. He did not rise when his visitor entered.
“Well now, what do you think brings me here?” exclaimed Joseph, when he had carefully closed the door.
“Hanged if I know, but it doesn’t seem to be particularly bad news.”
Indeed, Joseph had overcome his sensibilities by this time, and his aspect was one of joyous excitement. Seeing on the table a bottle of sherry, loosely corked, he pointed to it.
“If you don’t mind, Scaw. I’m a bit upset, a bit flurried. Got another wine-glass?”
From the cupboard Scawthorne produced one, and bade the visitor help himself His face began to express curiosity. Joseph tilted the draught down his throat and showed satisfaction.
“That does me good. I’ve had a troublesome day. It ain’t often my feelings are tried.”
