"Very well, sir," was the sad response; "then I'll go now."
"Will you not wait till Sid comes back?—I'm sure he——"
"No, no, sir—I would rather not see him—I am pressed for time, and have a great deal to do when I get back. There's one thing more I came for, sir."
"What's that?"
"I want you to try and remember a letter which you gave me, when I went away from Great Suffolk Street."
"A letter—a letter—let me see!"
The old gentleman evidently did not remember anything about a letter; no letter had seen the light, or all had been explained between Harriet and Sidney, and the course of true love was running smoothly to the end. So much the better; it was as well to say no more about it, Mattie thought. If the letter were lost, the old gentleman might only create suspicion by alluding to it upon Sidney's return; Mattie did not know how far to trust him.
She went away a few minutes afterwards, stopping for awhile to exchange greetings with Ann Packet, to whom she gave her address—a back street in Southwark Bridge Road—after much adjuration.
"You won't mind me, my dear," said Ann, "now you're settled down to something—but, oh! dear, how thin you've got. You've been fretting all the flesh off your precious bones."
"I haven't fretted much, Ann," was Mattie's answer; "you know I never liked to do anything but make the best of it. And I've not tried in vain—all will come right again—I'm sure of it!"