“Only a few. There is a Bible, an old geography with a great many leaves gone, Longfellow’s poetical works, and Bacon’s essays. I wanted some of father’s books, only granfer said they must be sold to pay for my board, so he let the schoolmaster have the lot for ten dollars.”
“What a shame!” There was a thrill of boyish indignation in Dick’s voice that brought a flush of pleasure to Nell’s thin cheek. Then he asked, “Are your father and mother dead?”
Nell nodded, rose abruptly from her seat, and going over to the opposite side of the fire, stooped down to do something to Pip. When she came back there was only a strained something in her tone to show that he had touched on a sore subject.
“Mother died ever so long ago, when I was only three years old. But I was eleven when father died, and I came up here to live with granfer.”
The door opened at this minute, and the old man came in, the water dripping from his garments, and his mood even more unpleasant than before.
But Dick Bronson, soothed by his supper and weak from his long fasting, fell asleep very soon, and so escaped the constant complaints of his unwilling host, who grumbled as long as he was awake, then, betaking himself to a hammock, snored loudly until the morning. Nell did not close her eyes, however, but, sitting on the floor of her loft, kept vigil from reasons best known to herself.
CHAPTER III
The Old Coat
THE next morning broke gloriously fine, and the brilliant sunshine put fresh vigour into Dick Bronson. He had spent a rather unrestful night, his slumber being often broken by hideous dreams.
He had even got off the settle and hobbled out into the sunshine, searching for some place where he might wash his face, before Nell descended the shaky ladder from her loft.