Guly's attack had not been a severe one, and he was once more performing his usual duties. One day as he sat writing, the dwarf with a chuckle made his way to his side, and stood there on his crooked legs panting heavily. "Hih, hih, Monsieur, God spare you yet? God spares the good. Long time, Monsieur, since I saw you." "Long time, indeed, Richard; I scarcely knew what had become of you; I am glad to see you among the living." "Mean that, Monsieur?" "Every word of it." "Miss me, Monsieur?" "Truly I have." "Good!" "And now where have you kept yourself so long, Richard?" "In one little hovel down town; I no put my nose out de door, fear dey chuck me into ze ground. Bury folks dis summer sometimes all warm and limber. I want to live till I'm dead, so I keep down. Life's as sweet to me as others, though I am misshapen, and lame, and poor, and miserable to look upon. Hih, hih, Monsieur, yes, life is sweet." "And how come you to be out to-day?" "I strolled out for one walk, hih, hih, one walk for the health of my crutches and myself; and as I passed along, some one give me this note for you, hih, hih, Monsieur. Goodbye! I must be going, or the undertaker will have me stuck two feet in the ground before I get back. Goodbye. Take care of yourself, hih!" "Goodbye, Richard." "Monsieur, you remember what you told me one day, long time ago?" "What about, Richard?" "About loving one another. Hih, hih, you forget?" "No, Richard, never forgotten." "Mean it yet?" "Yes, in my heart I do." "Hih, that's good--adieu!" Turning up his one eye at Guly to give a parting glance the dwarf swung himself away, and the clatter of his crutches on the pavement came back with a mournful echo to the boy's ear. Guly proceeded to read the note which had been handed him. It was simply an invitation for him to come to a certain number in an up-town street, and though neatly written, bore neither date nor signature.