"The best of company, then—for you and Mattie are the only friends left me, save that honest girl down-stairs."
"Ah! Ann Packet—we must not forget her, or we shall have Mattie scolding us."
"I asked if it were satire, because you are doing me a great service, and saving me from much anxiety. I have been thinking lately that it would be better for me to find my way into some asylum or other, and settle down there apart from the busy world without. You come forward to save me from the streets I have been fearing."
"As Mattie was saved," said Mr. Gray, solemnly; "remember that!"
Mr. Gray shortly afterwards took his leave. The same night he communicated the details of his scheme to his daughter; he could easily read in her face that it was a plan that had her full concurrence. Sidney at home again—Sidney to take care of, and screen from all those ills to which his position was liable!
In a short while a shop in the suburbs of London—not a great distance from Peckham Rye—was found to let. It stood in a new neighbourhood, with houses rising round it at every turn. A building mania had set in that direction, and a populous district was springing up there.
"I have always heard that to pitch one's camp in a new neighbourhood, if one has the patience to wait, will always succeed. We three have patience, and I think we'll try it."
This was said to Mattie, after she and her father had inspected the premises, and were walking by cross roads towards Camberwell, to gladden Sidney with the latest news.
"We'll try it—we'll begin home there, father."
"Home in earnest—eh?"