Tode thought over what had been said, and the result was that the next
time he appeared he was so changed that the good woman looked twice
before she recognised him. His clothes had been purchased at a
secondhand store, and they might have fitted better than they did, but
they were a vast improvement on what he had worn before. He had
scrubbed his face as well as his hands this time, and had combed his
rough hair as well as he could with the broken bit of comb which was
all he possessed in the way of toilet appliances. It is no easy matter
for a boy to keep himself well washed and brushed with no face cloth
or towel or brush, and no wash basin save the public sink. Tode had
done his best however, and Nan looked at him in pleased surprise.
"You do look nice, Tode," she said, and the boy's face brightened with
satisfaction.
All through that week Tode told himself that he would not go to the
church again, yet day by day the longing grew to see the bishop's face
once more and to hear his voice.
"W'at's the use! O'ny makes a feller feel meaner 'n dirt," he said to
himself again and again, yet the next Sabbath afternoon found him
hanging about St. Mark's hoping that the bishop would ask him in
again. But the minutes passed and the bishop did not appear.
"Maybe he's gone in aready," the boy thought, peering cautiously
through the pillars of the entrance.
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