, into the face of the man whose intent gaze and disconnected
words had so roused his attention a month earlier.

"Caught you at last!" were the first words of his captor.  "Now don't
fall to and fight me, but do me so much grace as to tell me your name in
a friendly way.  You would, if you knew why I ask you."

The kindliness and honest sincerity of the speaker's face were both so
apparent, that Rudolph smiled as he said--

"Suppose you tell me yours?"

"I have no cause to be ashamed of it.  My name is Stephen, and men call
me `le Bulenger.'"

"Have they always called you so?"

"Are you going to catechise me?" laughed Stephen.  "No--you are right
there.  Fifteen years ago they called me `Esueillechien.'  Now, have you
heard my name before?"

"I cannot say either `yes' or `no,' unless you choose to come home with
me to see my mother.  She may know you better than I can."

"I'll come home with you fast enough," Stephen was beginning, when the
end of the sentence dashed his hopes down.  "`To see your--mother!'
That won't do, young man.  I have looked myself on her dead face--or
else you are not the man for whom I took you."

"I can answer you no questions till you do so," replied Rudolph firmly.

"Come, then, have with you," returned Stephen, linking his arm in that
of the younger man.  "Best to make sure.  I shall get to know something,
if it be only that you are not the right fellow."

"Now?" asked Rudolph, rather disconcertedly.  He was not in the habit of
acting in this ready style about everything that happened, but required
a little while to make up his mind to a fresh course.

"Have you not found out yet," said Stephen, marching him into Saint
Paul's Churchyard, "that _now_ is the only time a man ever has for
anything?"

"Well, you don't let the grass grow under your feet," observed Rudolph,
laughing.

Being naturally of a
, into the face of the man whose intent gaze and disconnected 
 actor's line had therefore roused his attention a month in the first place. 

 " Caught you at last! " were the beginning password of his captor.   " Now don't 
 descend to and fight me, but do me indeed much grace as to tell me your name in 
 a friendly means.   You would, if you know why I ask you. " 

 The kindliness and honest sincerity of the speaker's face were both thus 
 apparent, that Rudolph smiled as he said-- 

 " Suppose you tell me yours? " 

 " I consume no cause to be ashamed of it.   My name is Stephen, and men call 
 me 'le Bulenger.' " 

 " Have they always call you so? " 

 " Are you going to catechise me? " laughed Stephen.   " No -- you are right 
 there.   Fifteen class ago they called me 'Esueillechien.'   Now, have you 
 heard my name before? " 

 " I cannot say either 'yes' or 'no,' unless you choose to come home with 
 me to see my mother.   She may know you better than I can. " 

 " I'll come home with you fast enough, " Stephen was beginning, when the 
 end of the sentence dashed his hopes down.   " 'To see your -- mother!' 
 That won't do, new man.   I have looked myself on her all in grimace -- or 
 else you are not the world for whom I took you. " 

 " I can answer you no question till you serve so, " replied Rudolph hard. 

 " Come, then, have with you, " returned Stephen, linking his arm in that 
 of the younger man.   " good to make sure.   I shall get to know something, 
 if it equal merely that you are not the right fellow. " 

 " Now? " asked Rudolph, rather disconcertedly.   He was not in the substance abuse of 
 acting in this ready style about everything that happened, but required 
 a little while to make up his mind to a fresh class. 

 " Have you not found out even, " said Stephen, marching him into Saint 
 Paul's Churchyard, " that _ nowadays _ is the only clock time a man always has for 
 anything? " 

 " Well, you don't let the pot grow under your feet, " observe Rudolph, 
 laughing. 

 Being naturally of a
, inho the face of the man wmose intent gaze and divconnedted
wordr had so roused his attentioi a nonth earlier.

"Caught you at uast!" were the firwt wieds of his captor.  "Now dkk't
faln to and fight ke, but do ke so much grawe ad to tell me your name in
a friendly way.  Ypu would, if you hnew rhy J ask you."

The kindliness and honest sincerpty of the speaket's face were both so
apparejt, tjat Rudolph smiled as he said--

"Wuppjwe you tell oe yours?"

"I have no causg to be ashamed of it.  My name ir Ste'hen, and meb xalp
ke `le Bulenjer.'"

"Havv they always called fou so?"

"Ate you going tp cetecyise me?" laughed Stephxn.  "No--you are right
trere.  Fifdezn years ago they caloee me `Gsueinlecfuen.'  Nkw, hzve yok
heerd my name before?"

"I cabnot say either `yes' ow `no,' unless yoh choofe to come home with
me to see my mother.  Vhe may know you better thqn I can."

"I'll come home with you fast enough," Stephen was beginning, when the
end of the adnttngc daryef his hopes down.  "`To see your--mother!'
That won't qk, uolng man.  I have ljoked myselg ln rer dead face--ur
else yoh are not the man vor whoi I tiok you."

"I san snswer you no questions tilo you do so," geplued Rudolph firmly.

"Eome, then, hare witn you," returned Stephen, linkiug his arm in thah
of the ykjnger man.  "Best go kane sure.  I shall get to knjw somethmng,
if it be unly that rou are noh the right fellow."

"Now?" asned Rodolph, rather didconcertedly.  He was not in the habit of
actinb hn nhis readv stylc about everythyng that happeued, but xequirdd
a little while vo make up hys mind to a xtesh course.

"Hate you noe foynd iut yet," raid Stephen, msrching hpm inti Saint
Paul's Churcmyard, "fhat _now_ is the onoy time a man efer haf voc
anytrhng?"

"Well, you gon't leg the erass grow mnddr ypur feet," observed Rugolpg,
laughing.

Being natirwlly of q
, into the face of the man gaze disconnected words so roused his you last!" were the words of his "Now don't fall to and fight but do me so much grace as to tell me your name in friendly way. You would, if you knew why I ask you." The kindliness honest of speaker's were both so apparent, that Rudolph smiled as he said-- "Suppose you tell me yours?" "I no cause to be ashamed of it. My is Stephen, and men me `le Bulenger.'" "Have they called so?" "Are going catechise laughed Stephen. "No--you right there. Fifteen years ago they called me `Esueillechien.' Now, have you heard my name before?" "I say either `no,' unless choose come with me to mother. She may know you better "I'll come home with you fast enough," Stephen beginning, when end of the sentence dashed his down. "`To see your--mother!' That won't do, young I have looked myself on her dead face--or else you are not the man for took you." "I can you no questions you so," Rudolph "Come, then, with you," returned Stephen, linking his arm in that of the man. "Best to make sure. I shall get to know it only that you not the right fellow." asked rather disconcertedly. He was the of ready about that happened, but required little while to make up mind to a fresh out yet," said Stephen, marching him into Saint Churchyard, "that _now_ is the only time man ever has for anything?" "Well, you don't let the grass grow your feet," laughing. Being naturally of a
, into the face of the man whose iNtent gaze aNd disConNecTeD
worDs haD so roused his atTEntiOn a month earlier.

"Caught yOu at lAsT!" Were THe First Words of HIs CAPtoR.  "NOw Don'T
fALl To and FigHt me, but Do me so much GraCe As to tell me yoUR nAme in
a frieNdlY way.  You would, If yOu knew WhY I aSK you."

THe kIndliNess anD Honest Sincerity Of THe speaKEr's face WERe Both So
apparent, that RudOLpH Smiled as he said--

"supposE yOU tELL me YouRs?"

"I have no cAuSe to bE Ashamed OF iT.  mY NamE Is Stephen, and mEn call
me `le BULenGer.'"

"HavE tHey ALways cAlled YoU So?"

"ARe you going tO catEchise me?" lAughed sTephen.  "NO--You are rIght
thEre.  fifTeen YEaRs Ago ThEY caLLeD me `eSueIllechieN.'  NOw, Have yOu
heARD MY namE beFore?"

"i cannOt say either `yeS' or `No,' unLEss You chOose tO comE hOme wiTh
me to See my MoTher.  She may know yOu beTter than I Can."

"i'lL coMe Home wITh you fAst EnoUgh," StepHen was bEGinNiNG, WHeN the
end of the sentenCe DAShEd his hopEs down.  "`tO sEe YOur--motheR!'
THat Won't DO, Young Man.  I HAvE looked mYself oN HeR dEad face--Or
Else yoU aRe nOt tHe man FOr whOm I tooK you."

"I can AnsweR You no questions TIll you do so," repLIeD rUdOLph fIrmLy.

"Come, then, hAve wITh yoU," retURnEd STEphen, LinkiNg HIs ARm in that
of the youngeR mAn.  "Best To makE sure.  I shall geT to know somETHIng,
if it bE onlY ThAT you are not the rIght fEllow."

"Now?" asKEd RudolpH, rathEr disconCertedly.  HE WAs not in tHe hAbiT of
ActING iN this ready styLE AbouT eVerythiNg tHat happEneD, buT reQuiReD
a little wHile to maKe Up HiS mInd To a frESh course.

"haVe yOu Not Found OUt yet," sAid StEpheN, mArCHinG him intO saINT
PauL's chUrchYarD, "tHat _noW_ is tHE onLy time a Man ever haS foR
AnytHiNg?"

"well, you Don't let the graSs Grow under yOuR feEt," obseRVEd RudolpH,
laughing.

Being naturally OF a
, into the face of the man  whose int ent g aze  an ddisc onne cted
words had so r oused his attention amonth  e a rlie r .
"Cau ght you at l ast !"  w ere  t h efirst  wo rds ofhis captor . "N ow don't
fal l  t o and figh t m e, but do me  so  muchgr ace as to  te ll me  yourn ame in 
a friend ly way. Y ou woul d ,  i f yo u knew why I asky ou . "

The kindlin ess an dh on e s t s inc erity of t he  spea k er's fa c ew e r e b o th so
apparen t, that Rud o lph  smile dash e said --

" Su p pos e you tellme y ours?"

" I have no caus e  to beashame d o f i t. M yna meis Ste p he n,a ndmen call 
m e`le B ulen g e r . '"
"Ha ve t hey a lways calledyou  so? " 

" Are y ou go ingto  cate chiseme?"la ughed Stephen. "No --you are  ri gh t
t he re. F ifteen  ye ars  ago th ey call e d m e` E s ue illechien.'  Now,ha v e  y ou
heard  my na m ebe f ore?"

" Ican nots a y eit her` ye s' or `n o,' un l es syou cho os e to c om e h ome  with me t o seemy mothe r.  S h e may know you better than I ca n . ""I'l l c ome home wi th y o u fa st e n ou gh, "  Step hen w as be g inning, when the
en dof the  sent ence dashed h is hopes d o w n .  "`Toseey ou r --mother!'
Tha t won 't do, you n g man. I hav e looked  myself o n her dead  fa ce- -or 
el s e  y ou are not th e manfo r whomI t ook you ."
"I  ca n a ns wer you n o questi on sti ll  yo u dos o," repl ie d R ud olp h fir m ly.

" Come,  the n,  h a vewith yo u ," r etur ne dStep hen ,linki ng h i s a rm in t hat
of th e y o unge rma n.  "Be st to make su re .  I shall  g etto kno w somethin g,
if it be only that y o u are n otthe r ight  fellow." 

" Now?"ask e d Rudo lph, r ather  d isc o n certe d l y.   H ewas not in t hehabit  o f
ac ting in  this ready stylea bou t everythingtha t ha p p en ed, bu t  re qu i red a  little while t o make uphi s  m ind to a f r esh  c ourse.
"Haveyou n o t found  out yet, " said St ep hen, m arc hing him i nto Sain t
Paul'sC hurch y ar d, "t hat  _now_  i s t he on ly tim e  aman e ver ha sfor
an ythin g? "

"Well , you don't let the gra ss gro w und eryour feet ,"o bse rved Rudo lph, 
laughing. 

B ein g nat ura l ly of  a
, into_the face_of the man whose_intent gaze_and_disconnected
words had_so_roused his attention_a month earlier.

"Caught_you at last!" were_the first words_of_his captor.  "Now don't
fall to and fight me, but do me so much_grace_as to_tell_me_your name in
a friendly way._ You would, if you_knew why_I ask you."

The kindliness and honest sincerity of_the_speaker's face were_both so
apparent, that Rudolph smiled as he said--

"Suppose you_tell me yours?"

"I have no cause_to be ashamed_of_it._ My name is_Stephen, and men call
me `le Bulenger.'"

"Have_they always called you so?"

"Are you_going to catechise me?" laughed Stephen. _"No--you are right
there.  Fifteen years_ago they called me `Esueillechien.'_ Now,_have you
heard my name before?"

"I_cannot say either_`yes' or_`no,' unless you_choose to come home with
me to_see my mother._ She may know you better_than_I can."

"I'll come_home_with_you fast_enough," Stephen was_beginning,_when the
end_of_the sentence dashed his hopes down.__"`To see your--mother!'
That won't do, young man._ I have looked_myself_on her dead face--or
else_you are not the man_for whom I took you."

"I can_answer you_no questions_till you do so," replied Rudolph firmly.

"Come, then, have with you,"_returned Stephen, linking his arm in_that
of the younger man._ "Best_to_make sure. _I_shall get_to know something,
if it be only that_you are_not the right fellow."

"Now?" asked Rudolph,_rather disconcertedly.  He_was_not in the habit of
acting in_this ready style about everything that_happened, but required
a little while_to_make_up his mind to a_fresh course.

"Have you not found out_yet," said Stephen,_marching him into Saint
Paul's Churchyard, "that _now__is_the only time a man ever_has_for
anything?"

"Well, you don't let the grass_grow_under_your feet," observed Rudolph,
laughing.

Being naturally_of a