They both laughed, then pursued their walk.
'Why look,' said Mr. Boddy presently, 'here's Mr. Ackroyd a-comin' along!'
Lydia had already seen him; that was why she had become silent.
'You're not going to stop, are you, grandad?' she asked, under her breath.
'Why no, my dear? Not if you don't wish.'
'I'd rather not.'
Ackroyd was walking with his hands in his pockets, looking carelessly about him. He recognised the two at a little distance, and drew one hand forth. Till he got quite near he affected not to have seen them; then, without a smile, he raised his hat, and walked past, his pace accelerated. Lydia, also with indifferent face, just bent to the greeting. Mr. Boddy had given a friendly nod.
There was silence between the companions, then Lydia said:
'I've thought it better, grandad, not to—not to be quite the same with Mr. Ackroyd as I used to be.'
'Yes, yes, Lyddy; I understand, There's a deal of talk about him. I'm sorry. He's done me more than one good turn, and I hope he'll get straight again yet. I'm afraid, my dear, as—you know—the disappointment—'