CHAPTER IV.
FAREWELL.
There followed a time of perfect happiness for Meg, during which, for a few weeks, she sat by her friend's fireside, watched him at his writing, listened to his reading, ruled over the meals that he took at home, and questioned him concerning those that he took abroad.
On a memorable afternoon they celebrated together, with much pomp, over a banquet of jam puffs and lemonade at a confectioner's shop in the Tottenham Court Road, the redemption from pawn of his father's gold watch and chain. Meg again played the part of Deus ex machina in the transaction, and personally paid the ransom of the precious pledge. In honor of the event, Mr. Standish presented her with a copy of Goldsmith's "Animated Nature," with "Meg" printed in gold letters on the cover. The sight of her name thus honored overcame the child. He explained to her, when she appeared inclined to rebuke him for extravagance that the political squib, the jokes which used to have a depressing effect upon her, had brought him the unlooked-for cash.
Shortly after this festivity Mr. Standish's movements once more became erratic. Meg could discover no signs, however, of the symptoms that she feared. He seemed mysteriously elated and full of business, yet he wrote less. He admitted when she questioned him that something was absorbing his time, but his answers were evasive concerning the nature of this new interest. He promised that she would know what it was shortly.
One day Mr. Standish had a long talk with Mrs. Browne over a bottle of sherry, after which he went out and returned late. The landlady was maudlinly effusive over Meg that evening, puzzled the child with her ramblingly affectionate talk, and filled her with vague apprehension. Mr. Standish's answers to Meg's queries were also unsatisfactory.
A few days later a dandified elderly gentleman wearing a frilled shirt visited the journalist. As he was leaving Mr. Standish called Meg in, and introduced her to the visitor as "the child I spoke to you about." The elderly gentleman looked at her peeringly, with his head on one side. He chuckled, patted her cheek, and told her if she were a good girl something wonderful might happen to her. The announcement, far from cheering Meg, deepened the foreboding in her heart.
That evening she softly entered Mr. Standish's room. A confused dread seized her when she saw the floor littered with books and papers lying about in parcels. The journalist was sitting by the fire, abstractedly poking the embers.