"Hallo, my friend! what's the row?"

Mr. Gilsum stopped, and, turning, said snappishly:

"None of yer business. Unless," he prudently added, "yer a friend of the
comical old chap up stairs, and want to pay his debts."

"I am a friend, and I will pay them," rejoined Marcus, speaking from the
impulse of the moment. Since he had become rich, and could afford the
luxury, he frequently spoke and acted upon impulse, without regard to
consequences.

Mr. Gilsum's face suddenly changed from an aspect of moroseness to one
of bewitching amiability. He stood in the doorway, and said:

"It's only a matter of ten shillings, sir, for brass and screws, and
little odds and ends from my shop--the locksmith's shop over in the next
street--you may remember it, sir. I'm sure I don't want to be hard on
the gentleman."

To cut short explanations, which he hated, Marcus paid the locksmith his
ten shillings, and suggested that he need not wait longer. The
locksmith, having received the money, thought it incumbent upon him to
apologize and explain still further, till Marcus took hold of the door,
as if to close it, when he accepted the hint, and departed, mumbling an
apology as he went.

The young girl, who had looked on in amazement, turned a pair of soft
blue eyes toward the face of the stranger, and said: