CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
HOW SMITH WENT HOME AND I TOOK PART IN AN EVENING PARTY.
Two days after the events recorded in the last chapter something happened which materially affected the course of my life in London.
Smith and I were just starting off to the office, after having finally made our submission to Mrs Nash, and induced her, with a promise "never to do it again," to withdraw her threat to turn us out, when the postman appeared coming round the corner.
It was a comparatively rare sight in Beadle Square, and Jack and I naturally felt our curiosity excited.
"May as well see if there's anything for me," said I, who had only once heard from my affectionate relative in six months.
Jack laughed.

"I never saw such a fellow," said he, "for expecting things.

It's just as likely there's a letter for me as for you." At this moment the postman came up with a letter in his hand in apparent perplexity.
"Anything for me ?" I said.
"Not unless your name's Smith," said the postman.

"Smith of Beadle Square, that's the party--might as well send a letter to a straw in a haystack." "My name's Smith," said Jack.
"Is it ?" said the postman, evidently relieved.

"Then I suppose it's all right." So saying he placed the letter in Jack's hand and walked on, evidently quite proud to have found out a Smith at first shot.
Jack's colour changed as he took the letter and looked at it.
He evidently recognised the cramped, ill-formed hand in which it was addressed.
"It's from Packworth!" he exclaimed, as he eagerly tore open the envelope.
I don't think he intended the remark for me, for we had never once referred either to his home or his relatives since the first day we were together in London.