First, I went to Country Tom's, the Goat, in Long Lane. He pretended to be unaware of the mishap. “You may go on with that work,” he said, “so long as you keep in harmony with things at home. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. There’s something about you, a little flavor of Will, I suppose, that makes one feel—good luck about you and success. I can imagine nothing more pleasant in life than to help you, because I know it would pay to help you. A slight rain fell at the time; and a few leaves, caught by the eddies, whirled around. But, when I look upon his innocent face, and see how like he is to his father,—when I think of that father's shameful ending, and recollect how free from guilt he once was,—at such times, Mr.
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