"I promised to be honest," answered Grif, wondering whether Matthew Nuttall had any suspicion who the lady was.
"And you have kept your promise?"
"Yes."
"Why do you not go to the lady now you are hungry, and ask her for assistance?"
"I don't like to," said Grif. "Somethin' pulls me back. She's hardly got enough for herself, I think. She'd give it me out of her own mouth, she would. She's poor--but she's good, mind! I never knowed any one so good as her! And I'd lay down my life for her this minute if she wanted me to!" He burned to tell who she was; he forgot his own cause when he spoke of her. Ah! if he could make her happy! But some feeling restrained him--some fear that he might make matters worse for Alice if her father knew that she was a friend and companion to him, who was no better than a thief.
"He speaks the truth, uncle, I am sure," said Marian.
"And so am I, my dear." He considered how he could best assist them. "You lead a hard life," he presently said.
"I don't care for myself," Grif said; "only for Little Peter."
"Well, I will send you and Little Peter on to one of my Stations, if you like, where you can learn to make yourself useful, and where at all events you will have enough to eat and drink. Anything else will depend upon yourself. What do you say?"
Grif's mind was made up in an instant. For Little Peter--yes. For himself--no. He could not leave Alice. He would starve sooner.