Mr. Kayll stared at the boards again for a few minutes in silence. The child’s story was a sad one undoubtedly, yet how could he help her with such a large family of his own? But again, when he compared the round healthy faces of his children with that of this pale sharp-featured little creature, and reflected that she was fatherless, and had already to support others by her own efforts, he felt that he could not refuse her request. Fatherless! What would become of his little ones had they not him to work for them?
“Madge,” he said rising, “get the girl a sandwich. She must be hungry after her journey. By the way, where do you come from? Where do you live now?”
“At Wingate Row, Bacton,” she answered.
“But you’re not going back there to-night?”
“Oh, yes, I am!” she said quickly. “I must. It isn’t much after nine, and it’s only half an hour’s walk.”
He asked her one or two more questions, then giving his wife a look that she understood, he led the way from the room, she following, when they had a little private conversation in the kitchen, leaving the visitor to eat the sandwiches Madge brought her, and to be stared at by the wondering boys.
In the kitchen five pounds passed back into Mr. Kayll’s purse, as a result of the few words with his wife. Then they both returned and found Amy Coleson standing up, apparently anxious to be gone.
“Come, my child,” said Mr. Kayll. “I’ll take you home and talk to your mother myself; that will be the best way. When you’re ready I am.”
She coloured up to the roots of her hair with pleasure, for she had begun to think her visit was to have no result at all.
“I am ready now,” she said, raising her face to kiss first Madge, then Mrs. Kayll, and then laying her hand confidingly in his. “Good-bye,” and she glanced at the rest with a nod that was meant for them all at once, and began to move towards the door. Mr. Kayll lingered only to say good-night to the children, as they would be in bed before his return, and looked round at their bright faces with a smile. It was a pleasant picture, one that he would perhaps have looked at yet once more if he had known that he would never enter that room again.