"Then I'll go. I'll go whether Gran's willing to let me or not."
"No, no," said Mrs. Jones hastily; "Mr. Blackmore would not wish you to go if Mrs. Berryman forbade you to, but I don't expect she'll do that."
"No," the little girl agreed after a brief reflexion, "I don't expect she will; I'll speak to her about it to-night."
"That's right."
Having finished her cake, Melina rose to leave; but at that minute heavy footsteps were heard in the yard outside the back door, and a few seconds later a big, powerful-looking man, wearing clay-stained garments, appeared upon the scene. This was Mrs. Jones' husband. He worked as a clay cutter, often in the pits underground, and earned good wages. He was a quiet, easy-going man, and he smiled very kindly at Melina, as he generally did when he saw her, which was not often.
"Why, 'tis the little maid next door!" he said in some surprise; "now, don't you go because I've come. Why, bless me, Mary!" he exclaimed, addressing his wife, "she's growing the very image of her father!"
"Did you know my father, Mr. Jones?" questioned Melina eagerly.
"To be sure I did," was the response.
"I wish you'd tell me about him," said the little girl; "Gran never will. Did you know him well?"
"Yes," assented Mr. Jones, "at one time. He and I went to school together, and we started work, I remember, on the same day; but he didn't stick to the clay work long, and then he went to London—to better himself, he said. I never saw him after he left Hawstock."