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           Pooter,whatisit?”Imusthavelookedafool,forallIcouldsaywas:“Mr.Perkupp,youareagoodman.”Helookedatmeforamoment,andsaid:“No,Mr.Pooter,youarethegoodman;andwe’llseeifwecannotgetyoursontofollowsuchanexcellentexample.”Isaid:“Mr.Perkupp,MayIgohome?Icannotworkanymoretoday.”

           Mygoodmastershookmyhandwarmlyashenoddedhishead.ItwasasmuchasIcoulddotopreventmyselffromcryinginthe’bus;infact,Ishouldhavedoneso,hadmythoughtsnotbeeninterruptedbyLupin,whowashavingaquarrelwithafatmaninthe’bus,whomheaccusedoftakinguptoomuchroom.

           IntheeveningCarriesentroundfordearoldfriendCummingsandhiswife,andalsotoGowing.Weallsatroundthefire,andinabottleof“JacksonFrères,”whichSarahfetchedfromthegrocer’s,drankLupin’shealth.Ilayawakeforhours,thinkingofthefuture.Myboyinthesameofficeasmyself—wecangodowntogetherbythe’bus,comehometogether,andwhoknowsbutinthecourseoftimeheMaytakegreatinterestinourlittlehome.ThatheMayhelpmetoputanailinhereoranailinthere,orhelphisdearmothertohangapicture.InthesummerheMayhelpusinourlittlegardenwiththeflowers,andassistustopaintthestandsandpots.(By-the-by,Imustgetinsomemoreenamelpaint.)AllthisIthoughtoverandoveragain,andathousandhappythoughtsbeside.Iheardtheclockstrikefour,andsoonafterfellasleep,onlytodreamofthreehappypeople—Lupin,dearCarrie,andmyself