"Please you, I wasn't sent here at all," the boy stammered. "I tried the 'Turk's Head' first and then the 'Three Tuns.'"
"And what should make you suppose I was at either? Look here, young man, the workshop from Robinson down"—Robinson was the foreman—"is poking its nose too far into my business. If this goes on, one of these days Robinson will get his dismissal and you the strap."
"It wasn't Robinson sent me, sir. It was the mistress."
"Eh!" William Wright came to a halt on the pavement and his jaw dropped.
"Her uncle, Mr. Matthew, has called and wants to see you on particular business."
The business, as it turned out, was merely to give him quittance of a loan. The sum first advanced to them by Matthew Wesley had proved barely sufficient. To furnish the dwelling-rooms in Frith Street he had lent another 10 pounds and taken a separate bond for it, and this debt Hetty had discharged out of her household economies, secretly planning a happy little surprise for her husband; and now in the hurry of innocent delight she betrayed her sadder secret.
She had as yet no fear of him, though he was afraid of her. But at sight of him as he entered, all the joy went out of her announcement.
He listened sulkily, took the receipt, and muttered some ungracious thanks. Old Matthew eyed him queerly, and, catching a whiff of brandy, pulled out his gold watch. The action may have been involuntary. The hour was half-past ten in the morning.
"Well, well—I must be going. Excuse me, nephew Wright; with my experience I ought to have known better than to withdraw a busy man from his work."
He glanced at Hetty, with a look which as good as asked leave for a few words with her in private. But Mr. Wright, now thoroughly suspicious, did not choose to be dismissed in this fashion. So after a minute or two of uneasy talk the old man pulled out his watch again, excused himself, and took his departure.