"I've enough to reproach myself with one."
These words, spoken by Mr. Chester in the course of his late domestic difference with his wife, brought with them a feeling of deep remorse.
He had another child, a son, now a man, and a sharp pain shot through the hearts of husband and wife as the words were uttered. But Mr. Chester, once more at the Royal George, did his best to drown uncomfortable reminiscences. His new tenant, who accompanied him to the gin-palace, scarcely opened his lips except to drink. His manner of taking his liquor was not attractive; he raised his glass to his lips with a sly furtive air, and conducted himself throughout in so objectionable and jarring a spirit, that when, within half-an-hour of midnight, he said, churlishly: "I think I may as well get home;" Mr. Chester replied: "All right; you'll not be missed in this company." Thereupon, the stranger, with another sly watchful look around took his leave, to everyone's satisfaction.
Within a few moments of his departure, Mr. Chester, in the act of drinking, suddenly held up his hand. His attitude of attention was magnetically repeated in the attitudes of the persons around him. As when a person in the street stands still, and points at nothing in the sky, he speedily draws about him a throng of interested ones, who all look up, and point at nothing also.
What had arrested Mr. Chester's attention was the faint sound of music from without. Only half-a-dozen notes reached his ears, and they were softly borne to him from a wind instrument.
The glass which he held trembled in his hand, and, had he not placed it on the counter, would have fallen to the ground.
He walked slowly to the door, and looked out in the street for the musician. He could not see him, and the sound had died away. Returning to his companions, he abruptly asked:
"Did any of you observe whether that man"--referring, with a backward pointing of his thumb, to his new tenant--"had anything in his breast pocket?"
Two or three answered, No, they had not observed any thing particular; but one said he thought, now Mr. Chester mentioned it, that the stranger did have something in his breast pocket.
"Something that stuck out," suggested Mr. Chester vivaciously.
Perceiving that he had made a hit, the man replied that he thought it was something that stuck out.
"Might have been a stick?" proceeded Mr. Chester.
"Yes, it might have been a stick."
"Or a flute?"
"Yes, it might have been a flute."
"Or," asked Mr. Chester, coming now to his climax, "a penny tin whistle?"
Yes, the man thought it might decidedly have been penny tin whistle; which so satisfied Mr. Chester, that he inhaled a long breath of relief, and asked the man what he would take to drink.