Rudyard Kipling 217 while to turn up and see us again after you got your money. I don’t know why you should. Are you going anywhere in particular just now?” “I was going for a walk,” said Bessie. “Not the old business?” Dick spoke under his breath. “Lor, no! I paid my premium” — Bessie was very proud of that word — “for a barmaid, sleeping in, and I’m at the bar now quite respectable. Indeed I am.” Mr. Beeton had no special reason to believe in the loftiness of human nature. Therefore he dissolved himself like a mist and returned to his gas-plugs without a word of apology. Bessie watched the flight with a certain uneasiness; but so long as Dick appeared to be ignorant of the harm that had been done to him... “It’s hard work pulling the beer-handles,” she went on, “and they've got one of them penny-in-the-slot cash-machines, so if you get wrong by a penny at the end of the day — but then I don’t believe the machinery is right. Do you?” “Tve only seen it work. Mr. Beeton.” “He’s gone. “I’m afraid I must ask you to help me home, then. Pll make it worth your while. You see.” The sightless eyes turned towards her and Bessie saw. “Tt isn’t taking you out of your way?” he said hesitatingly. “I can ask a policeman if it 1s.” “Not at all. I come on at seven and I’m off at four. That’s easy hours.” “Good God! — but I’m on all the time. I wish I had some work to do too. Let’s go home, Bess.” He turned and cannoned into a man on the sidewalk, recoiling with an oath. Bessie took his arm and said nothing — as she had said nothing when he had ordered her to turn her face a little more to the light. They walked for some time in silence, the girl steering him deftly through the crowd.