"Yes."
'Tilda Jane suppressed a scream. "An' you can live at home?"
"Well, I rather guess so."
'Tilda Jane's pleasure was too deep for words. She stood gaping speechlessly at him.
Hank, in high good humour, beamed benevolently on the orphan girl as she stood beside him. "What are you sticking your head up an down for like a chicken taking a drink?" he said at last.
"Hank, I'm givin' thanks," she said, reverently, "givin' thanks that you've got led out of that roguey business."
"I'll not get into anything of that kind again, sissy," he said, with a shamefaced air. "You may just be sure of that. I've had a great talk with that friend of yours—and sissy, I'm obliged to you."
There was a queer break in his voice. An end had suddenly come to his troubles. He would now be in the way of earning an honest living. And it would be a pleasure to live with his father and this young girl who would look up to him and admire him.
"Sissy," he said, abruptly, "where do you think my new berth is?"
"I don't know—oh, tell me quick."