Eve’s endeavours were not wasted. Mr. Leeming knows how to find God and by his reckoning God had been sitting next to him just a while ago. A god-child has to have a god-father and Mr. Leeming figured that he had just been appointed to that role for the day. For he had been praying for a pullover with sleeves long enough to keep his hands warm in the coming winter and a scarf to keep the wind from his neck. Now if this pullover wasn’t an answer to his prayer he did not know what was. Not only was it an answer to his prayer, but the Good Lord had improven upon it. Now he would not have to worry about having his scarves lost or stolen. Business first.
(Did you think that tramps have no business being what they are? Wrong. Tramps, no matter how down and dirty or pretty and tarted up they are, play a very useful part in the Kingdom of God. They are messengers between this place and that, recording and reporting how they are treated by people who are strangers to God. God is pleased when strangers first meet Him through his daughter, Faith; He is delighted when Hope is the daughter who makes the introductions; but His heart is full to over-flowing when Charity brings someone home to meet Him.)
The tramp hurried off to the anchorage in Hull and found the ship-shape shop. At the back of the shop was a tea-room for travellers; a place where they could have a cup of tea, a shower or bath if they wanted. There was a washing machine and dryer. While people waited for the cleansing of their only change of clothes they dressed in a terry towelling robe once used by a World Light Heavyweight Champion. This was so that some of his strength would rub off and give them hope to carry on. Jack sat in the bath-robe, drinking a cup of tea and chatting to the lady behind the washing machine. He told her of the grand pullover he had just acquired. He got carried away with his description of its perfection which means he ended up letting out the secret that it was really very more that merely Nearly Perfect; it was as perfect a thing as had ever come out of the land of Nearly Perfect people.
The lady behind the washing machine pressed a button under the counter. Another flawless garment had been found. The hit-men paraded up the stairs from the dank basement beneath the bargain basement and took the pullover Eve had given to Jack away out of sight. Their second sighting of it confirmed their worst fears. It was perfect. Such a pity. It would have to be sent to the Unravellers.
The man who had sold the wool to the grandmother was reprimanded for selling inexpensive wool to a lady who knew quality when she saw it. For his pains he had to run flags up the mast of the ship-shape shop. To those who can decipher the language of flags the message read: