So the two started out together. The places they went to were of various kinds, and revealed a considerable diversity of misfortune. Sometimes they entered tenement houses of the most wretched character; but in other instances they went to small and cheap but decent lodgings over the shops on West Side avenues, or even penetrated into boarding-houses of such good appearance that the banker was surprised to find his friend's mission carrying him thither. All the cases, however, had been studied, and were vouched for; and several were those of young men and women having employment, but temporarily disabled, and without friends who could help them. "You do well to help these beginners, at critical times," said the banker, with satisfaction. "I take a special interest in them." It was almost the same as if he were receiving relief himself. Who knows? Perhaps he was; but to the outward eye it appeared merely that, with his friend's sanction, he was dispensing money and offers of goodwill to the needy. What a strange freak it was, though, in Littimer! He kept on with the work until quite late in the evening, regardless of the risk he ran by continuing out-of-doors when so ill shod. I think he had some idea in his mind that he was performing an act of penance. IV Having waited a reasonable length of time after dinner, Crombie again left his room, resolved to make a call upon Mr. Littimer, on the plea of apologizing for having marched away with his shoes. He would not run the risk, by sending his card, of being denied as a stranger; so, notwithstanding much hesitation and tremor, he approached the door which he had once seen standing open, and knocked. A voice which he now heard for the second time in his life, but which was so sweet and crept so naturally into the centre of his heart that the thought of it seemed always to have been there, answered: "Come in." And he did come in. "Is Mr. Lit--is your father at home?" It seemed to bring him a little nearer to her to say "your father." Blanche had risen from the chair where she was reading, and looked very much surprised. "Oh," she exclaimed, with girlish simplicity, "I thought it was the waiter! N-no; he hasn't come home yet." "I beg pardon. Then perhaps I'd better call later." Crombie made a feeble movement toward withdrawal. "Did you want to see him on business? Who shall I tell him?" "Mr. Crombie, please. It's nothing very important." "Oh," said Blanche, with a little blush at her own deception, "haven't I seen you in the house before? Are you staying here?" She remembered distinctly the incident of the card-case, and how very nice she had thought him, both on that occasion and every time she had seen him. But as for him, his heart sank at the vague impersonality with which she seemed to regard him. "Yes, I'm here, and can easily come in again." "I expect my father almost any moment," she said. "Would you like to wait?"