"It did not occur to me," Burton replied, "that there was any possibility of misunderstanding anything you or Professor Cowper said. Still, it is very kind of you to come and see me." Alfred, who was drawing in colored chalks at the other end of the room, rose up and approached his father. "Would you like me to go into the other room, father?" he asked. "I can leave my work quite easily for a time, and I have several books there." Mr. Bomford screwed an eyeglass into his eye and looked across at the child. "What an extraordinarily--forgive my remark, Mr. Burton--but what an extraordinarily well-behaved child! Is it possible that this is your boy?" Alfred turned his head and there was no doubt about the relationship. He, too, possessed the deep-set eyes with their strange, intense glow, the quivering mouth, the same sensitiveness of outline. "Yes, this is my son," Burton admitted, quietly. "Go and shake hands with Mr. Bomford, Alfred." The child crossed the room and held out his hand with grave self-possession. "It is very kind of you to come and see father," he said. "I am afraid that sometimes he is very lonely here. I will go away and leave you to talk." Mr. Bomford fumbled in his pocket. "Dear me!" he exclaimed. "Dear me! Ah, here is a half-crown! You must buy some chocolates or something to-morrow, young man. Or a gun, eh? Can one buy a gun for half-a-crown?" Alfred smiled at him. "It is very kind of you, sir," he said slowly. "I do not care for chocolate or guns, but if my father would allow me to accept your present, I should like very much to buy a larger drawing block." Mr. Bomford looked at the child and looked at his father. "Buy anything you like," he murmured weakly,--"anything you like at all." The child glanced towards his father. Burton nodded. "Certainly you may keep the half-crown, dear," he assented. "It is one of the privileges of your age to accept presents. Now run along into the other room, and I will come in and fetch you presently." The child held out his hand once more to Mr. Bomford. "It is exceedingly kind of you to give me this, sir," he said. "I can assure you that the drawing block will be a great pleasure to me." He withdrew with a little nod and a smile. Mr. Bomford watched him pass into the inner room, with his mouth open. "God bless my soul, Burton!" he exclaimed. "What an extraordinary child!" Burton laughed, a little hoarsely. "A few weeks ago," he said, "that boy was running about the streets with greased hair, a butcher's curl, a soiled velveteen suit, a filthy lace collar, dirty hands, torn stockings, playing disreputable games with all the urchins of the neighborhood. He murdered the Queen's English every time he spoke, and spent his pennies on things you suck. His mother threw two of the beans I had procured with great difficulty for them both into the street. He picked one up and ate it--a wretched habit of his. You see the result."