“Oh yes,” cried Netta, excitedly. “Mr Lloyd will take such care of me; but—”
The joy faded out of her countenance, and she clung to her mother, looking from her to the work.
“What is it, my dear?” said Mrs Lane, stroking her soft dark hair.
“It’s cruel to go and leave you here at work,” sobbed the girl.
“What! when you are going to get strength, and coming back more ready to help me?” said Mrs Lane, cheerfully. “There, go along! Take care of her, Mr Lloyd.”
Richard had been to the head of the stairs, and spoken to Sam, who was already on his box; and as the young man offered his arm, Netta took it, with the warm, soft blush returning, and she stole a look of timid love at the tall, handsome man who was to be her protector.
The next minute she was in the cab, Richard had taken his place at her side, and Sam essayed to start as the good-bye nods were given.
“Lor!” said Mrs Jenkles, her woman’s instinct coming to the fore, “what a lovely pair they do make!”
At the same moment, on the opposite side of the way, a lady with a widow’s cap cocked back on her head, gazed from behind a curtain, wiped her eyes on a piece of crape, and said, with a sigh—
“And him the handsomest and quietest lodger I ever had!”