In summer i went scarborough. when i arrived there it was late dinner i my raincoat and a walk. it was a dull day, the sky was covered clouds, and it was raining a little. the wind was very strong and it was dif ficult to walk, but i wanted some air. while i was walking slow ly the quiet empty street i saw a stranger. he first passed me by, but then he stopped. “is that you, old man? ” he shouted. “it’s nice to see you! i was never so glad to see you my whole life! ’ i turned it was jones. “why, what are you doing here? what’s the matter? ” i said. “and aren’t you cold? ” jones was wearing flannel trousers and a thin shirt. “why don’t your go home? ” “i cannot,” he answered. “i forgot the name the hotel where my wife and i stayed. take m you and give me some thing to eat.” “haven’t you any money? ” i asked. “not a penny. wfegot york, my wife and i about eleven. w? left our things the station and the hotel. i changed my clothes and w ent a walk. the sun was shin ing brightly and there was nothing the weather forecast about rain. but i forgot to take the address.” “can you describe the street or the house? ” “n o,” he said sadly. “wfell. i’m sure that we’ll find out where you live soon enough,” i said. i took him my hotel and gave him some food. wfethen began telephoning all the scarborough. wfedid it so well that next afternoon jones found both his hotel and his wife.”