"Simpleton!" muttered Goldie, glancing with a knowing smile at Mrs. Winter, but Mrs. Winter did not return the smile. "You never help yourself?" he continued to Nelly. "Never manage to taste a sugar-plum when father's back is turned?"
The child's face flushed crimson, she shrank back from his touch, looked full into his face with her open blue eyes, and seemed to feel it unnecessary to say "No!"
"Nelly is brought up in the fear of God," observed Mrs. Winter, "and knows that it would be better to touch live coals than anything dishonestly gained. Go home with your seven biscuits, my good little girl, and make ready to welcome your new brother."
As soon as Nelly had left the shop, Goldie exclaimed, "Well, I always thought that Viner was a little mad, but I never imagined that ever he would do anything half so wild as this! Is he really going to adopt the son of Walter Binning?"
"What do you know of the man?" inquired Mrs. Winter.
"Know! Why I know that he has been the worst enemy that ever Viner had. He was some distant relation of his, I fancy, and was for ever getting him into one trouble or another. Viner was once, I have heard, in very good business here—that was before I set up my shop opposite—and what first pulled him down, and half ruined the poor man, was becoming security for this Binning. What might have been expected happened—the rogue made off, and left his simple friend to pay, Ha! Ha! Ha! And now, like an honest man, discharges his debt by making him a present of his son!"
"I heard that the boy's father was absent beyond seas," said the baker's wife.
"To be sure, that means 'sent out of his country for his country's good.' I remember it now—Walter Binning was transported for seven years for theft! I wish Viner joy of the hopeful youth that he is going to adopt! He may not find him quite so apt a pupil as little Nelly. The child of a thief is not likely to be a saint. If the father half ruined poor honest Viner, perhaps the son may finish the business!" And so saying, with a nod to the good woman of the shop, Goldie took up his bag and went out.
The village in which our scene is laid was one situated by the sea-side, which had not yet grown into a town, though already a favourite resort of those who wished for sea breezes and quiet. It had, like other watering-places, its boats and its bathing-machines; fishermen spread out their nets on the shingles; donkeys, ready saddled, stood in a row prepared to carry visitors along the white chalky road, or the long line of smooth brown sand which was left wet and shining when the tide went down.
E— boasted a small circulating library consisting of little but old soiled novels, and a reading-room with benches in front, which were often occupied in summer by lady visitors, who, protected from the glare by parasols and broad-brimmed straw-hats, amused themselves with their knitting or their book, while enjoying the fresh air from the sea.