up, no doubt, at periods when Bob seemed slighted or extra unpopular. Big secrets about Bob takin' him into a London newspaper buildin', and showing him round the basement. Astounding secret about Bob slipping him in behind the scenes of a theayter one morning. Bob had been probably lumper or messenger, or one of a legion of imps and devils, in one place, and super, or possibly call boy, in another. The secret that Bob had been married was a secret that Billy didn't want, and had no use for. All he knew was that the marriage had been a mess, a bad job all round, and that was sufficient for Billy. Bob had his big, honest sympathy, and it would have been the same had the wife been an angel and Bob a fiend in married life, and Billy had known it. Billy didn't know anything about married life, and never offered an opinion concerning it either one way or the other.
He was bound to keep the other's secrets, because, once out, they would have led to many questions and speculations, and may have made one or two fiendships. And Bob didn't want either talk or appreciation. Billy's was too much, but Bob bore with him, when he couldn't get away from it. Billy was "too good to be hurt or put down."
His leisure life seemed almost a clause of appreciation and attendance round Bob Cleaves, and the others forebore unkind or sarcastic comments for Billy's sake. Besides, they went in fear of Bob's grammar and pronunciation.
Lizzie admitted to Billy, in a nothing-of-consequence tone, that she didn't like Bob at first—couldn't
