"You needn't speak so loud, Bet—I ain't deaf. It's a queer world,—it's a nice state, so to speak, of society when a gel takes to bullying of her own father. You're quite mistook ef you suppose Dent is in Liverpool. A life on the ocean wave, with its storms and its fogs and its dangers, is poor Dent's life at present. But I don't say," continued Granger, lowering his voice, and trying to speak in a seductive manner, "I don't say as I couldn't get word with him. I won't say how, and I won't say when; and I won't say, either, but what he's as innocent as a babe; but word with him I might be able to get ef,—now, what's the matter, Bet?"
"Nothing, father—nothing much—only set you down by the fire and make yourself cosy. There—you're all trembling; you're not as strong as you ought for to be—you wants your comforts. You'd like a cup of tea now, wouldn't you? And no one can make tea like Bet—now, can they?"
"That's true enough, my gel—you can be a comfort ef you have a mind. No mistake on that point. Well, as I said, I might get word of Dent,—only hark you, Bet, you'll stay at home—there'll be no larks back to Paradise Row, and no bringing Mother Bunch to the front? You'll stay here, and be a comfort to your father?"
"Yes, father, I said I would,—oh, I can make you real cosy, there's no doubt on that point."
"And you'll bring the lads back, and not play no fool about them no more? They're my lads, and you has treated me shameful in the matter. But you'll bring 'em back, to be under the shelter of their honest father's roof? You understand—I'll do nought about finding Dent unless you comes back here—you and them boys." Bet's face was convulsed for a moment.
"They shall come back," she said, then—"that's the 'greement: me and them living here as of old, and Will let out of his prison."
"And there'll be no talk of your marrying yourself to the thief? I'll do nought ef you give me that feller as a son-in-law. I'd rather a sight leave him in prison—why, Bet, how white you air—I wouldn't be doing my dooty as a father ef I seed you a flinging of your 'andsome self away on a thief feller."
Granger was right when he said Bet's face had grown white. Her long fast, all the anguish and agitation she had undergone, and now this terrible last clause in the agreement she was making with her father, proved too much for her. She did not faint, as she had done in the morning; but she was absolutely incapable of replying. Her lips opened, it is true, but no articulate sound came from them.
"I'm a bit weak," she managed to gasp at last; "I han't eaten nought to-day."
Granger fetched her a little water, and then volunteered to go out to bring in bread and tea. He was still considerably puzzled and annoyed at Bet's knowledge of his doings; but he was glad to have the girl and the boys once more in his power, and had great faith in Dent's diplomacy.