"That's right. We'll draw those ferrets out of their hole, and it will not be long before Reginald is a free man--freely and honourably acquitted, with every one who knows him, and every one who doesn't, ready and eager to shake hands with him, and give him a word of sympathy."
"Dear Dick!" said Florence, giving him both her hands.
"Dear Florence, dear aunt, I would go through fire and water for you." He turned suddenly to Gracie. "What have you had to eat to-day?"
"A penny loaf at the baker shop," replied Gracie, who was fainting with hunger.
"Nothing more?" cried Aunt Rob.
"No, ma'am."
"Florence, lay the tablecloth; and you, Dick, run down to the kitchen, and fetch the bread and butter--and you'll find a cake in the larder. And bring up the kettle--I'll make the tea here. Tell the servant to cook four large rashers and poach half-a-dozen eggs. Draw up to the table child--why, you must be starving!"
"I'm all right, ma'am. It ain't worth while worrying about me."
"You dear little mite!" Aunt Rob's heart was overflowing with pity, and she bent down and kissed her. Dick was back, loaded with a steaming kettle and bread and butter and cake, and though Aunt Rob was no fairy, the tea was made and a cup placed before Gracie, and bread and butter cut, as quickly as any fairy, though she were light as gossamer, could have accomplished it. "Don't wait for us, Gracie, the bacon and eggs will soon be here--why, here they are! Now, my dear, make a good meal, and you sit down, Florence, and eat. It's easier to meet trouble with a full stomach than an empty one. Here's your cup, Dick; you look famished, too. Things look ever so much brighter, don't they?"
And thus she rattled on to put Gracie at her ease, and under the influence of a spirit so buoyant and hopeful a fuller meal was eaten than would otherwise have been the case, and they were all the happier for it. Then Gracie arose, and thanking them quietly said that her mother would be worrying about her, and if they would excuse her she would like to go home. There was a grave look on Aunt Rob's face at mention of Gracie's mother, for she thought of Mrs. Death's conduct an hour or two ago at the Coroner's Court, but she said nothing except that Gracie ought to go home at once. She would have liked to wrap up what was left of the cake, and give it to the child to take to her little brothers and sisters, but she felt that the kindly act might be misconstrued, and might get Gracie into trouble.