"
Mrs. Hunt stared in amazement at the boy. His eyes were glowing and
in his voice there was a ring of deep feeling that she had never
before heard in it. It made her vaguely uncomfortable. Her Dick had
never spoken so about any bishop, nor indeed, about anybody else, and
here was this rough street boy whom she considered quite unfit to
associate with Dick--and the bishop himself had taken him into church.
Mrs. Hunt spoke somewhat sharply. "Well, I must say you were a
queer-lookin' one to set in a pew in a church like St. Mark's."
Nan looked distressed, and Tode glanced uneasily at his garments. They
certainly were about as bad as they could be. Even pins and twine
could not hold them together much longer.
"Tode," Mrs. Hunt went on, "I think it's high time you got yourself
some better clothes. Dear knows, you need 'em if ever a boy did, an'
certainly you must have money 'nough now."
"'Spect I have. I never thought about it," replied Tode.
"Well, you'd better think about it, an' 'tend to it right away. 'F
you're goin' to church with bishops you'd ought to look respectable,
anyhow."
Something in the tone and emphasis with which Mrs. Hunt spoke brought
the colour into Tode's brown cheeks, while Nan looked at the good
woman in surprise and dismay. She did not know how troubled was the
mother's heart over her own boy lately, as she saw him growing rough
and careless, and that it seemed to her hard that this waif of the
streets should be going up while her Dick went down.
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