Archie said no more on the subject then, but he made up his mind to keep a sharp look-out upon Stephen's conduct. Whenever he met him, therefore, he looked keenly at him; and he would sometimes come through the great room where Stephen worked, with a number of other men and lads, and stand close to him, silently scrutinizing him. If he spoke to him, it was always to ask a question which obliged young Bennett to say a good deal in reply; and Archie was forced to own that he displayed a considerable knowledge of the branch of business in which he was occupied.
But Stephen soon discovered that he was regarded with suspicion, and he came to dread his young master's approach, and the cold, searching glance of his blue eyes.
Stephen had looked haggard and careworn from the first, but as weeks passed on he seemed to get worse. He still did his duty as well, or almost as well, as ever, but he grew perceptibly weaker every day, and at last he could hardly drag himself along.
"I doubt if I'll last much longer," he said to himself, as he reached the mill one morning about three months after his first arrival at Longcross, "but father's time will be out next week. I must write to him to-day or to-morrow and warn him what may be coming."
There was only one man at the mill who had ever been the least civil to Stephen. This was a gay, thoughtless young fellow named Timothy Lingard.
He always rather prided himself on taking a different side from the other men, and in his light, careless way he had rather patronized Stephen when he saw him.
Not that they met very often, for Timothy's work was to stay in the mill all night, and go round the premises at intervals in order to see that there was no danger of fire.
Sometimes he was not gone when Stephen came in the morning; and then, as the latter waited outside for the doors to be opened, Timothy would enter into a conversation with him, just to show the other men that he took a different line from theirs.
One evening—it was about a week after the discussion about Stephen between Archie and Mr. Munster—Timothy met the pale, careworn lad dragging himself wearily home from the mill. He looked more ragged than ever—his clothes seemed almost ready to drop off.
"Hullo!" said Timothy; "you look as if you hadn't too many pennies to chink against each other. What d'ye do with your wages? They don't go in clothes—that's clear enough."