He was a sturdy old fellow in a broad-skirted blue coat, made pretty large, to fit easily, and with no particular waist; his bulky legs clothed in drab breeches and high gaiters, and his head protected by a low-crowned broad-brimmed white hat, such as a wealthy grazier might wear. He wore his coat buttoned; and his dimpled double chin rested in the folds of a white neckerchief—not one of your stiff-starched apoplectic cravats, but a good, easy, old-fashioned white neckcloth that a man might go to bed in and be none the worse for. But what principally attracted the attention of Nicholas was the old gentleman’s eye—never was such a clear, twinkling, honest, merry, happy eye, as that. And there he stood, looking a little upward, with one hand thrust into the breast of his coat, and the other playing with his old-fashioned gold watch-chain: his head thrown a little on one side, and his hat a little more on one side than his head, (but that was evidently accident; not his ordinary way of wearing it,) with such a pleasant smile playing about his mouth, and such a comical expression of mingled slyness, simplicity, kindheartedness, and good-humour, lighting up his jolly old face, that Nicholas would have been content to have stood there and looked at him until evening, and to have forgotten, meanwhile, that there was such a thing as a soured mind or a crabbed countenance to be met with in the whole wide world.
But, even a very remote approach to this gratification was not to be made, for although he seemed quite unconscious of having been the subject of observation, he looked casually at Nicholas; and the latter, fearful of giving offence, resumed his scrutiny of the window instantly.
Still, the old gentleman stood there, glancing from placard to placard, and Nicholas could not forbear raising his eyes to his face again. Grafted upon the quaintness and oddity of his appearance, was something so indescribably engaging, and bespeaking so much worth, and there were so many little lights hovering about the corners of his mouth and eyes, that it was not a mere amusement, but a positive pleasure and delight to look at him.
This being the case, it is no wonder that the old man caught Nicholas in the fact, more than once. At such times, Nicholas coloured and looked embarrassed: for the truth is, that he had begun to wonder whether the stranger could, by any possibility, be looking for a clerk or secretary; and thinking this, he felt as if the old gentleman must know it.
Long as all this takes to tell, it was not more than a couple of minutes in passing. As the stranger was moving away, Nicholas caught his eye again, and, in the awkwardness of the moment, stammered out an apology.
“No offence. Oh no offence!” said the old man.
This was said in such a hearty tone, and the voice was so exactly what it should have been from such a speaker, and there was such a cordiality in the manner, that Nicholas was emboldened to speak again.
“A great many opportunities here, sir,” he said, half smiling as he motioned towards the window.
“A great many people willing and anxious to be employed have seriously thought so very often, I dare say,” replied the old man. “Poor fellows, poor fellows!”
He moved away as he said this; but seeing that Nicholas was about to speak, good-naturedly slackened his pace, as if he were unwilling to cut him short. After a little of that hesitation which may be sometimes observed between two people in the street who have exchanged a nod, and are both uncertain whether they shall turn back and speak, or not, Nicholas found himself at the old man’s side.
“You were about to speak, young gentleman; what were you going to say?”
“Merely that I almost hoped—I mean to say, thought—you had some object in consulting those advertisements,” said Nicholas.
“Ay, ay? what object now—what object?” returned the old man, looking slyly at Nicholas. “Did you think I wanted a situation now—eh? Did you think I did?”
Nicholas shook his head.
“Ha! ha!” laughed the old gentleman, rubbing his hands and wrists as if he were washing them. “A very natural thought, at all events, after seeing me gazing at those bills. I thought the same of you, at first; upon my word I did.”
“If you had thought so at last, too, sir, you would not have been far from the truth,” rejoined Nicholas.
“Eh?” cried the old man, surveying him from head to foot. “What! Dear me! No, no. Well-behaved young gentleman reduced to such a necessity! No no, no no.”
Nicholas bowed, and bidding him good morning, turned upon his heel.
“Stay,” said the old man, beckoning him into a bye street, where they could converse with less interruption. “What d’ye mean, eh?”
“Merely that your kind face and manner—both so unlike any I have ever seen—tempted me into an avowal, which, to any other stranger in this wilderness of London, I should not have dreamt of making,” returned Nicholas.
“Wilderness! Yes, it is, it is. Good! It is a wilderness,” said the old man with much animation. “It was a wilderness to me once. I came here barefoot. I have never forgotten it. Thank God!” and he raised his hat from his head, and looked very grave.
“What’s the matter? What is it? How did it all come about?” said the old man, laying his hand on the shoulder of Nicholas, and walking him up the street. “You’re—Eh?” laying his finger on the sleeve of his black coat. “Who’s it for, eh?”
“My father,” replied Nicholas.
“Ah!” said the old gentleman quickly. “Bad thing for a young man to lose his father. Widowed mother, perhaps?”
Nicholas sighed.
“Brothers and sisters too? Eh?”
“One sister,” rejoined Nicholas.
“Poor thing, poor thing! You are a scholar too, I dare say?” said the
