I discovered a certain amount of satisfaction in observing that events shaped somewhat in accordance with my prophecy. So soon as my voice settled down I was asked to join a Choral Union in Walham Green; and on the second evening, as I escorted two ladies in the direction of their home, I met Edward—Edward on the way from work, and presenting the appearance of a half-caste nigger. He raised his cap, and I had to explain to my companions that he was a lad to whom my people had been able to show some kindness, taking him in hand when he was quite young. Unfortunately, one of the ladies knew him, and knew his name, and I found it advisable not to go to any more rehearsals of “The Wreck of the _Hesperus_.” Months afterwards, when I had left home and was living in lodgings owing to a dispute with mother about coming home late at night, he and some of his fellow-workmen arrived at the offices in Bucklersbury to fit up the electric light, which had then just come in, and I had to take an early opportunity of mentioning to him, privately, that if he claimed relationship with me he would be doing the very worst turn that a man could do to another. “See you hanged first!” said Edward, taking his coat off to begin work. I turned cold at the sight of his shirt-sleeves of flannel. “That makes it necessary that I should appeal to your better instincts. I implore you, Edward, to remember that the ties of relationship can exist, but need not—” “I mean,” he explained, “that I’ll see you hanged first before I confess to any one here that you are a brother of mine. Providing, of course”—here he threw back his head and laughed in a loud, common way—“providing the Governor of Newgate allows me to be present at the ceremony.” I felt greatly relieved at this, but now and again, while the work was going on in the office, Edward gave me a start by talking in an audible voice to the other workmen about his relatives, and I knew he did this purposely. What I feared was that his companions might speak to him by his surname; it proved reassuring to find that they called him Teddy. On the night they finished the work, I happened to be staying overtime, and, taking him aside, I tried to talk pleasantly to him, asking how he progressed in the new business to which he had transferred himself, and pointing out that a rolling stone gathered no moss, but he seemed quite off-hand in his manner. I offered him sixpence that he might go out and get a drink. He said that I had better keep it and buy something to put in my face; he added that I appeared to be spending all my money on clothes, and expressed doubts whether I had enough to eat. “Pardon me, Edward,” I said, “you are now trespassing on grounds that do not belong to you.” “A family weakness,” he remarked. “Good-night, old man! Good luck to you!”