He let her go ahead of him on leaving the church, as he did not wish to be observed. He did not follow her home, however, but went instead to the club, and joined a group of chattering men in a bay-window, and listened for half an hour to their vapid comments on the smartly-dressed men and women who went by, feeling all the time a dull ache in his heart for that sensitive, lonely, probably unhappy girl, whose loveliness, even in her shabby clothes in that little mission chapel, made the most fashionable of the women who passed him seem trivial and vulgar by comparison. For several days, Randall carried this lovely vision in his mind, until one afternoon, in a populous business neighborhood, he came suddenly upon a group of people assembled around the familiar horse and cart and the pair of musicians. He wanted to retreat, but he forced himself to stop and join the crowd, wondering what effect his presence would have upon her, if she should see and recognize him. So he took his place conspicuously, and listened with indignant protest as she sang, in popular style, with a vulgar abandon that made him positively furious, the familiar strains of “Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!” The voice was grating and unlovely as before, but again he felt amazed at the marvelous method of the singer, and the spirit with which she gave the song called forth an encore, after which she got out of the cart and passed around the basket. When she came to Randall, he purposely fumbled several seconds with his change, hoping that she might look up at him, but when she persistently looked down, he fancied that if she saw him, she was ashamed to reveal herself to him. Well she might be, he thought, and tossing some loose coins into the basket, he was about to walk away, when he heard a man standing near say some words to the woman as she held out her basket to him, which roused such fury in Randall’s soul, that before the insult had died upon the fellow’s lips, he found himself seized by the shoulders, and hurled aside with a blow from so powerful an arm that it sent him staggering against a tree. At the same instant, Randall saw the woman, with a movement of fright, run swiftly toward the cart. Before she reached the cart, however, the man at the piano had sprung from his place, and had rushed after the fellow whose words had caused the disturbance, but who, warned by the punishment which he had already received, had made the best use of his time and had escaped. Seeing this, the pianist turned and, coming toward Randall, said in a voice of controlled agitation, “I am very much obliged to you, sir, for what you did.” Randall, who was in a state of disgust at the whole performance, waved aside the man’s thanks, and rapidly walked away.