"Then I do not see why you should not take your own way in the matter, provided always that the boy's belongings do not stand in the way. You must consider that, Lawrence; you may be bringing a swarm about you, and Wikkey's relations may not prove as disinterested as himself."
"But that is just the beauty of it; he hasn't any belongings, for I asked him; beyond paying a shilling for a bed to some hag he calls Skimmidge, he seems to have no tie to any living creature."
"That being so," said Reginald, slowly; "and if you do not feel alarmed about your spoons, I don't see why you should not make the little soul happy, and"—he added with a smile—"get a blessing too, old fellow, though I doubt you will bring a sad time on yourself, Lawrence."
Lawrence gave a sort of self-pitying little shrug, but did not look daunted, and his cousin went on—
"Meanwhile, I think the hag ought to be made aware of your intentions; she will be looking out for her rent."
"Bother! I forgot all about that," exclaimed Lawrence, "and I haven't a minute to spare; I must race back to set the boy's mind at rest, and its close upon nine now. What's to be done?"
"Look here, I'll come back with you now, and if you can get me Mrs. Skimmidge's address I'll go and settle matters with her and glean any information I can about the boy: she may possibly be more communicative to me than to you. I know the sort, you see."
As Lawrence encountered Wikkey's penetrating gaze, he felt glad that his mind was made up; and when the question came in a low, gasping voice, "I say, guvner, are you going to send me away?" he sat down on the end of the sofa and answered:
"No, Wikkey, you are going to stay with me."
"Always?"