“No,” I said stoutly.
“My poor orphan bye,” she said with a real sob. “Don’t—don’t go.”
“Why, Mrs Dodley,” I cried, “any one would think I was a baby.”
“Here, Grant,” cried Mr Brownsmith, “hadn’t you better lie down for an hour or two. You’ve plenty of time.”
“No, sir,” I said stoutly; “I couldn’t sleep if I did.”
“Well, then, come and have some supper.”
That I was quite willing to have, and I sat there, with the old gentleman looking at me every now and then with a smile.
“You will not feel so eager as this next time, Master Grant.”
At last I heard the big latch rattle on the gate, and started up in the greatest excitement. Old Brownsmith gave me a nod, and as I passed through the kitchen Mrs Dodley looked at me with such piteous eyes and so wrinkled a forehead that I stopped.
“Why, what’s the matter?” I asked.