"Do you live near here?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir," she replied; "at No. 2 Jubilee Terrace."
"Ah! Then we shall meet again. I have come to live at Hawstock, to be a lay-helper in the parish."
Melina said "Yes, sir," though she had not the least idea what a lay-helper was. She was moving away when the little gentleman detained her.
"I hope you are going to forgive that boy who acted so rudely to you," he remarked; "I think he was ashamed of himself, and he apologised, you know."
"That was only because you were here," Melina said bluntly; "I know William Jones very well, and—" significantly—"he knows me."
Her pale face had flushed again; but, meeting her companion's eyes at that moment, something in them—a look of mingled sorrow and sympathy—caused her lips to quiver suddenly. "I—I am so miserable," she faltered, "everyone—yes, everyone is against me." She brushed a hand hastily across her eyes, then added: "Oh, I must hurry back to the shop for the tea, and get home to Gran!"
But once more the little gentleman detained her.
"You complain that everyone is against you," he said; "won't you tell me what you mean? Is not your grandmother kind to you?"
She shook her head, and, pulling up the loose sleeve of her blouse, exhibited a skinny arm covered with bruises. "That's her doing," she said, with a bitter laugh that sounded strangely from a child's lips; "no, she ain't kind to me—not when she's in drink anyway. When she's sober she lets me be."