“I don’t think he’s such a very bad sort of fellow, as boys go, Grace,” Mr Jabez said; “but look here, my boy, do you see how the land lies?”
“What do you mean, Mr Rowle?” I said laughing; “that Tom and Linny seem to be getting very fond of one another?”
“Yes,” he said, tapping me on the breast-bone with his snuff-box. “I spoke to Hallett about it last night, and he said he was not sorry.”
“Of course not. I am sure he likes Tom,” I said thoughtfully, as I saw how great an alteration had come about at the house, for Linny used to sing about the place now like a bird, and Mary watched over her like a dragon. In fact, Mary was a wonderful institution at Great Ormond Street, and even Mrs Hallett was afraid of her, in so much that Mary’s practical ways seemed quite to silence her murmurings, and make her take a more cheerful view of life.
“But look here, Grace,” said Mr Jabez, “don’t you be a young fool. You don’t want to grow into an old bachelor like I am.”
“I don’t know that I do,” I said.
“Then about Linny: does it suit your book for that big child to be coming here and cutting the ground from under your feet?”
“Cutting the ground from under my feet?” I said merrily. “Why, what do you mean, Mr Jabez?”
“I mean, don’t you be a young noodle, and play with your opportunities. Linny’s a very nice little girl, and I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if some day she had a few—perhaps a good many hundreds of her own. I tell you what it is, Grace, my boy, I shouldn’t be a bit displeased if you were to play your cards right, and make a match of it with that little girl.”
“And I hope, Mr Rowle, you would not be a bit displeased if I did not do anything of the sort?”