"What will you give me ef I tell you?"
"I haven't much to give. I can sing to yer—tell me, and I'll give you the bonniest song—one that no bird in springtime could beat."
"Ay, ay, lass," said Granger. "You know your power, and how you can wheedle anything out of a fellow; but the fact is I don't know where Bet is hiding; and if I did the secret is Dent's, not mine. But I don't—so there. What's the matter, Hester?—what are you staring at?—oh, that child—you let him alone, he's asleep, that child is. I popped him into bed, and he's asleep. You let him be, Hester Wright."
"I will, when I've looked at him," said Hester.
She moved over to the bed, on which a forlorn little figure lay prone. A white cheek pressed the pillow, and two big blue eyes looked up imploringly at Hester.
"Why, it's the cap'n!" said the singer, bending over the boy, and pushing the bright reddish hair off his forehead. "What are you doing, laddie?—and where's your brother?"
The captain's eyes said unutterable things, but his lips did not move—Granger as well as Hester was watching his face.
"He's resting—can't yer see it?" said the man. "You let him go back to his sleep. His brother?—oh, he's out larking in the street."
A curious look came over Hester's face. Her manner completely altered. Stooping again, she pressed a very light kiss on the boy's white cold brow.
"Go to sleep, lad," she said.