Soon after I felt some one pull my arm, and starting round, there stood Mr Hallett, and hurriedly following him out of the hot, noisy room, we made our way once more into the forest.
As we rambled on, delighted with the delicious coolness and the sweet scents of the woodlands, Mr Hallett asked me a few questions about myself, soon learning my little history, while my respect for him had increased as I found out more and more how different he was from the ordinary workmen at the office. He was evidently a scholar, and seemed to have a great depth of knowledge in mechanical contrivances.
“We must know more of one another, Grace,” he said; “I am glad we have been together to-day. What do you do on Sundays?”
I explained that when Mr Revitts was off duty we went for a walk.
“And pray who is Mr Revitts?” he said.
I explained that he was a policeman, and had been very kind to me since I had lodged with him in town.
“I am quite alone in London, you see, Mr Hallett,” I said in an old-fashioned way at which I now can smile.
He nodded, and seemed thoughtful for a few minutes.
“Mine is not a very cheerful home, Grace,” he said at length; “but if you will come and spend a Sunday—say Sunday week—with us, I shall be glad to see you. Will you come?”
“I should be so glad,” I cried, and then I stopped short.