"But I could not help it then. I wasn't naughty. Oh, John, I wish I might stop with you all day in the forge! It's such a nice safe place. I don't want ever to go away."
"It's a dirty place for you, Lily," said the young man. "Well, little one, maybe that fellow's right and I shan't have you long. You've got a beautiful home somewhere, I expect. It's been just an angel's visit to poor mother and me."
"I don't want a beautiful home," said the child. "Please, I want to stay with you."
She repeated this once or twice as they went home together through the village street, but John had not much to say. He looked very grave, and swung the bar in his other hand in a manner that Dick might justly have called threatening.
When they reached the cottage it was nearly tea-time. Lily ran in to put her school things away and have her hair brushed, while John went to wash and change his coat. The child began of course chattering to Mrs. Randal about Dick and all he had said, and all John had said to him. Mrs. Randal, with the teapot in her hand, looked anxiously across at her son.
"It's all right, mother," he said with a slight smile. "No more o' that, Lily. Mother don't want to hear about a fellow like that. I'll talk to her afterwards."
They were not alone till the child had gone to bed, for John would not let her go out to play as usual; he could not feel sure that Dick might not still be lurking in the village. When she was gone, he told his mother the whole story. She looked extremely grave.
"Well, my boy," she said, "we thought it must come some day, and so did Mr. Bland. Yes, John, I've a feeling as the time's drawing near for us to lose little Lily, and to be sure life will be dreary without her—but we've done our duty by the child, and we must find some comfort there."
"Cold enough comfort," said John, staring into the fire.