Mr. Blackmore had a very soft place in his heart for all children, for the sake of two little ones of his own, who, with their mother, had fallen victims to cholera in India, in the early days of his residence there, more than twenty years previously; and his sympathy was aroused for the poor little shivering mortals hurrying by.
"It's easy to pick out those who have good parents," he muttered to himself. The vicar had told him that most of the want and misery in the place was caused by betting and drink; for employment was rarely scarce in Hawstock, even in wintertime, as there were several potteries and brick-works in the neighbourhood, and clay fields where men who were able and willing to labour could generally find work. "Ah, here comes the little girl I had the talk with yesterday! Dear me, how very cross she looks!"
Melina was coming along with her eyes cast down, her expression sulky in the extreme. Mrs. Berryman had declared herself better this morning, and had insisted that her granddaughter should go to school. This had not pleased Melina; but, being in fear of another visit from the attendance officer, she deemed it wise to go. Now, as she neared South View she became aware that there was a figure at the garden gate, and glanced up. Immediately she gave a start of surprise, and coloured with pleasure. She had not expected to see the little gentleman again so soon.
"Good morning, Melina," said he cheerily, with a friendly nod.
"Good morning, sir," she answered, the shadow of ill-temper passing suddenly from her face to give way to a smile which was as pleasant to see as a gleam of sunshine on a winter's day.
"I suppose you are going to school?" he questioned.
"Yes, sir. I didn't go yesterday because Gran was ill, and I had to stay at home to look after her; but she's better to-day—leastways she says so."
"Don't you think she is?"
Melina shook her head. "She looks bad enough," she said, "and she's not going to get up."
"Not going to get up! But you have not left her in the house alone, surely?"