“Barge,” he said, “I wonder if you would be so awfully good as to do a little errand for me on your way home?”

There came into the boy’s face, on hearing these words, a smile of such sheer, innate sweetness and goodness, that Wolf was staggered. He had been, if anything, rather abrupt and distant with the fellow in their daily relations, and the pleasure with which the boy responded to this unexpected request struck him in his present mood as no less than astonishing. It was as if in this desert of grim reality upon which he had been dropped from the back of his divine steed, he had heard the most heavy-humped camel utter melodious words.

“How good of you, Gaffer!” he cried eagerly, using the lad’s nickname to indicate his appreciation of this response. “One minute, then; and I’ll write a note.”

He incontinently scribbled a line to Gerda, telling her not to expect him home till after tea. This missive he folded up and directed to “ Mrs. Wolf Solent, Thirty-Seven, Preston Lane.”