But the incident had been a shock. There was nothing to fear from it, he knew; but it had been a shock nevertheless. He did not know the man's name; he had never asked it. He was plainly one of the many strangers who, in passing through the Capital, went to visit the public buildings. The merest chance might have brought him to the place; the most ordinary course of events might take him away. Tom went back to Dupont Circle in a thoughtful mood. He forgot the claim and the Senator who had had no leisure to hear the statement of his case. Rupert and Sheba were waiting for his return. Rupert had spent the afternoon searching for employment. He had spent many a long day in the same way and with the same result. "They don't want me," he had said when he came home. "They don't want me anywhere, it seems--either in lawyers' offices or dry-goods stores. I have not been particular." They had sat down and gazed at each other. "I sometimes wonder," said Sheba, "what we shall do when all our money is gone--every penny of it. It cannot last long now. We cannot stay here and we cannot pay our way back to the mountains. What shall we do?" "I shall go out every day till I find something to do," said Rupert, with the undiscouraged fervour of youth. "I am not looking for employment for a gentleman, in these days; I am looking for work--just as Uncle Matt is." "He chopped some wood yesterday and brought home two dollars," Sheba said. "He made me take it. He said he wanted to pay his 'bode.'" She laughed a little, but her eyes were wet and shining. Rupert took her face between his hands and looked into it adoringly. "Don't be frightened, Sheba," he said; "don't be unhappy. Lovely darling, I will take care of you." She pressed her soft cheek against his hand. "I know you will," she said, "and of Uncle Tom, too. I couldn't be unhappy--we all three love each other so. I do not believe we shall be unhappy, even if we are poor enough to be hungry." So their moment of dismay ended in smiles. They were passing through a phase of life in which it is not easy to be unhappy. Somehow things always brightened when they drew near each other. His observation of this truth was one of Tom's pleasures. He knew the year of waiting had managed to fill itself with sweetness for them. Their hopes had been alternately raised and dashed to earth; one day it seemed not improbable that they were to be millionaires, the next that beggary awaited them after the dwindling of their small stock of money; but they had shared their emotions and borne their vicissitudes together. When Tom entered the room they rose and met him with questioning faces. "Was it good fortune?" they cried. "Did you see him, Uncle Tom? What did he say?"