"I'll see her—show her in."
Mattie came in the instant afterwards; the hall of the Hinchfords was not so spacious but that anything spoken in the front room would reach the ears of one waiting in the passage. She heard the answer, and entered at once.
"Well, Mattie, how are you?"
"Pretty well, I thank you, sir," was returned in the old brisk accents.
Mattie was not looking pretty well; on the contrary, very pale and thin, as though anxiety, or hard work, or both, had been her portion since she had left Great Suffolk Street. She was dressed in black, very neatly dressed, and possibly the dark trappings had some effect in increasing the pallor of her countenance.
"We thought that we had lost you for good, Mattie."
"Was it likely, sir, that I was going to lose sight of all those who had been kind to me?"
"You're not looking very well," he said.
"Ah! we musn't judge by people's looks," said Mattie, cheerfully. "I'm well enough, thank God! And you, sir?"
"Well, Mattie, thank God, too!"