Grif looked an affirmative. He did not dare to trust himself to speak just yet.
"And Mr. Blemish kindly gave you one," said Matthew.
Grif looked another affirmative.
"Are you doing well?"
"No, sir," Grif found voice to reply.
"He looks very miserable, uncle," said Marian, in a half whisper; "and see that other little boy there. Is he asleep?"
"No, miss; he is hungry," Grif had to check a rising sob as he said this. "Look up, Little Peter."
Little Peter looked up with his large pleading eyes, and then turned his face to the ground again.
"He seems ill, uncle," whispered Marian. "Shall I run to the house, and bring him something to eat?"
"Hush! my dear," said Matthew Nuttall, taking the girl's hand in his. The little bit of womanly sympathy reminded him of his daughter, who never allowed a poor man to go hungry from Highlay Station. "Wait a moment. Is he your brother?" This to Grif.