'No, no, sir,' remonstrated Ben, feeling that his fate and Bessie's were in this man's hands; 'don't say that, sir! Quite the contrary, indeed, sir; quite the contrary, eh, Bessie?'
And the arch old hypocrite tried to smile, to show that he was delighted with the man's company.
'--But I assure you,' continued the man, 'that I have no desire to annoy or distress you. I have gone through hardships myself--with a motion of his hand towards his white hair--'as you may see.'
'What is it you want us to do, sir? asked Ben Sparrow. 'I am sure anything you want, such as tobacco or beer--or anything that there is in the cupboard----'
'I want you to feel as if I wasn't in the house. I know, for instance, that this is your sitting-room; I don't want you to run away from it. If you like, I will go and sit in the kitchen.'
'No, no, sir!' implored Ben Sparrow. 'Not for worlds. We couldn't allow such a thing, could we, Bessie? This is my granddaughter, sir!--the dearest child that man ever had!----'
Why, here was the man in possession, as old Ben broke down, actually patting him on the shoulder, and looking into his face with such genuine sympathy, that before Ben knew where he was, he had held out his hand as to a friend! What would the next wonder be?
'That's right,' said the man in possession; 'we may as well be comfortable together, and I shall take it ill of you, if you and your granddaughter do not use the parlour just as if I wasn't here. If you don't, I shall go and sit in the kitchen.'
They could do nothing else, after this, but look upon the parlour as their own again. Bessie felt very grateful to the man for the sympathy he had shown to her grandfather, and she took out her old workbox, and sat down to mend a pair of Tottie's socks. 'The way that child makes holes in her toes and heels is most astonishing,' Ben had often remarked.
The man in possession glanced at the little socks, and then at Bessie so thoughtfully and kindly, that she gave him a wistful smile, which he returned, and said: