"I promised her to try, though I told her it wasn't a bit o' good."
"Who is 'her'?" inquired Mr. Matthew Nuttall, turning suddenly round, and facing Grif.
Grif gave a great start, and threw a sudden sharp look at the questioner's face. He knew him at once. The likeness was unmistakeable. Even in his deep voice there was a ring of Alice's sweeter tones. If anything could have shaken Grif, it was the sight of that stern face, and the knowledge that the man before him could make Alice happy if he chose. Eager words rushed to Grif's lips, but he dared not give them utterance. What good could a ragamuffin like him do? He had best hold his tongue, or he would make matters worse.
"Who is 'her'?" repeated the gentleman.
"She's a lady, that's what she is," replied Grif, recovering his composure.
"A lady!" and Mr. Nuttall laughed.
"Ah, if you knew!" thought Grif, but he contented himself with saying, "Yes, she is, and so you'd say if you sor her."
"Upon my word," remarked Mr. Blemish, blandly, "I did not know that vagabonds like you associated with ladies. This boy is evidently an original."
"Don't you call no names," said Grif. "If you don't want a errand boy, say so, and send me away."
"Better and better," observed Mr. Blemish, composedly. "Now, this is something in my way, although I am not aware that I have met with such a character before to-day. Why did you start when this gentleman spoke to you?"