“I don't think he will meddle with me again,” said Paul to himself, as he pulled down the sleeves of his jacket.
He walked back, and looked for the shirt which he had laid down before commencing the combat. But he looked in vain. Nothing was to be seen of the shirt or of Mike's companion. Probably both had disappeared together.
The loss of the shirt was very vexatious. It was not so much the value of it that Paul cared for, although this was a consideration by no means to be despised by one in his circumstances; but it had been lent as a pattern, and without it his mother would be unable to make Mr. Preston's shirts. As to recovering it, he felt that there was little chance of this. Besides, it would involve delay, and his mother could not afford to remain idle. Paul felt decidedly uncomfortable. Again Mike Donovan had done him an injury, and this time of a more serious nature than before.
There seemed but one answer to this question. He must go back to Mr. Preston, explain the manner in which he had lost his shirt, and ask him for another, promising, of course, to supply the place of the one lost. He was not sure whether Mr. Preston would accept this explanation. He might think it was only an attempt to defraud him. But, at any rate, it seemed the only thing to do, and it must be done at once. He entered a passing car, for it was too late to walk.
“I wish I had taken the car down,” thought Paul. “Then I shouldn't have lost the shirt.”
But it was too late for regrets now. He must do the best that remained to him.
It was nearly ten o'clock when Paul once more stood before the door of Mr. Preston's boarding-place. He rang the bell and asked to see him.
“You have been here before this evening?” said the servant.
“Then you know the room. You can walk right up.”
Paul went upstairs and knocked at Mr. Preston's room. He was bidden to come in, and did so.
“I suppose you are surprised to see me,” said Paul, rather awkwardly.
“Why, yes. I did not anticipate that pleasure quite so soon,” said Mr. Preston, smiling.
“I am afraid it won't be a pleasure, for I bring bad news.”
“Bad news?” repeated the gentleman, rather startled.
“Yes; I have lost the shirt you gave me.”
“Oh, is that all?” said Mr. Preston, looking relieved. “But how did you lose it?”
