Leave a letter with me; I'm always here." Shelton hesitated, but those last three words, "I'm always here," touched him in their simplicity.

Nothing more dreadful could be said.
"Can you find me a sheet of paper, then ?" he asked; "please keep the change for the trouble I am giving you." "Thank you," said the Frenchman simply; "he told me that your heart was good.

If you don't mind the kitchen, you could write there at your ease." Shelton wrote his letter at the table of this stone-flagged kitchen in company with an aged, dried-up gentleman; who was muttering to himself; and Shelton tried to avoid attracting his attention, suspecting that he was not sober.

Just as he was about to take his leave, however, the old fellow thus accosted him: "Did you ever go to the dentist, mister ?" he said, working at a loose tooth with his shrivelled fingers.

"I went to a dentist once, who professed to stop teeth without giving pain, and the beggar did stop my teeth without pain; but did they stay in, those stoppings?
No, my bhoy; they came out before you could say Jack Robinson.