The following morning he began the search, and had no difficulty in finding the address. It was a modest frame cottage beginning to show its age. A large middle-aged woman came to the door, and when Mr. Cripps explained that he was trying to trace a family named Haworth which had once occupied the house, she said at once, “Oh, I can tell you that,” and asked him in. In the little front room she said: “Charlie lives here with me. Was it ’im you was askin’ about?” He was so dumfounded at coming upon the object of his search at the very start that his “yes” was hardly audible. Then he added, “And—and Mrs. Haworth and the boy?” “It’s the boy as is ’ere, sir; there ain’t none of ’em left but ’im.” They sat down in the small room. “You don’t—you don’t mean both of his parents are dead!” “Yes, sir! ’Is mother she died about three years ago, an’ ’is father quite a spell before that.” “And the little boy’s been living here with you since?” “Yes, sir, ’e ’as. But you’d ’ardly call ’im _little_, sir; ’e’s comin’ on to eighteen.” “Yes yes—of course. I knew he must be grown up, but in spite of that I couldn’t help thinking of him as a youngster. Is he—is he a nice boy? All right and—and straight—and good habits?” “Indeed ’e is—a dear boy—but ’e’s a bit strange; an’ I ’opes, sir, if you ’ave any influence with ’im, you’ll try if you can’t do something about it.” “Influence! But my God! I’ve never seen him, Mrs.——” “Towse, sir.” “Well, you see, Mrs. Towse, I don’t know the boy at all, and what’s more I doubt if he ever heard of me. So what I might say would hardly count with him, would it?” “Of course,” Mrs. Towse said, “if you don’t know ’im you couldn’t do anything just yet, but after you get acquainted ’e might listen to you.” “What seems to be the matter?” Mr. Cripps inquired. The devastating fear had come upon him that it might be another case of Augustus. “It’s the way ’e was born, I suppose. ’E’s got so many ideas of ’is own that ’e can’t go along satisfactory with w’at you might call reg’lar work. W’y, ’e’d be a first-class machinist drawin’ good pay, but ’e’s so full o’ plans an’ ideas for this an’ that, ’e don’t seem to keep ’is mind on anything they put ’im to.” Mr. Cripps inquired if the young man was doing anything just now. “Mercy on us! Why, we can’t ’ardly get ’im ’ome for ’is meals, ’e’s that taken up with ’is invention work; but the thing ’e gets to workin’ on don’t never seem to be w’at people want.” “What kind of things are they?”