'He is very uncertain. No one knows when he comes or whither he goeth. I would not wait if I were you. He may come to-day, or to-morrow, or at any time. He comes on Sunday morning, often. I hear him coming up-stairs after the chapel bell stops. He is a quiet neighbour--no slammer or tramper. I would not wait, I say, if I were you.' 'I will wait a little longer. I am very anxious to see Mr. Gray.' 'He should wait for you,' Mr. Langhorne replied, politely. 'The stairs are not a fit resting-place for you. This old Inn is too quiet for such as you. Mirth and joy belong to you-- Silence and rest to such as me. Even slamming does not, I daresay, greatly displease youth and beauty. Chambers are not for young ladies. Beauty looks for life and love and admiration. They do not exist here. Run away, young lady--leave the Inn to the poor old men, like me, who cannot get away if they would.' 'Thank you.--I must see Mr. Edmund Gray, if I can. It will not hurt me to wait a little longer.' 'You wish to see Edmund Gray. So do I. So do I. You are a friend of his. Perhaps, therefore, you will do as well. Those who are his friends are like unto him for kindness of heart. Those who wish to be his friends must try to be like unto him. Young lady, I will treat you as the friend of that good man. You can act for him.' 'What can I do if I do act for him?' But there was a hungry eagerness in the man's eyes which made her divine what she could do. 'It is Saturday.' He replied without looking at her. He turned away his head. He spoke to the stair-window. 'To-morrow is Sunday. I have before this, on one or two occasions, found myself as I do now--without money. I have borrowed of Mr. Carstone and of Mr. Edmund Gray. Sometimes, I have paid it back--not always. Lend me--for Mr. Edmund Gray--if you are not rich, he will give it back to you--the sum of five shillings--say, five shillings. Otherwise, I shall have nothing to eat until Monday, when Mr. Carstone returns.' 'Nothing to eat? Nothing at all to eat?' Beggars in the street often make the same confession, but somehow their words fail to carry conviction. Mr. Langhorne, however, did carry conviction. The old man shook his head. 'I had some food yesterday at this time. Since then I have had nothing. There was neither tea nor bread in my rooms for breakfast. When the clock struck six, my dinner hour, I thought I would walk along the street and look at the things to eat which are placed in the shop windows. That relieves a little. But to-morrow will be a bad time--a very bad time. I shall lie in bed. Oh! I have gone through it before. Sometimes'--he dropped his voice--'I have been sore tempted to take something---- No--no; don't think I have given way. No--no. Why--I should be--disbarred. Not yet--not yet.' Elsie opened her purse. It contained two sovereigns and a shilling or two. 'Take all,' she said eagerly. 'Take all the gold, and leave me the silver. Take it instantly.' She stamped her foot.