"Tell mamma I say she knows nothing about it."
"Jane Greatorex was there, papa, and Aunt Annabel. She told me to tell you, too, not to work so much."
"Jane Greatorex did?"
"Now, papa, you know! Annabel."
"We'll have mamma and Annabel taken up for conspiracy. Good night, my little treasure: I'd keep you here always if I could."
"Let me say my prayers to you tonight, papa," whispered the child.
He was about to say no, but seemed to change his mind, and quitted the chair at the writing-table for another. Then Nelly, throwing all her gifts on the table in a heap, knelt down and put up her hands to say her prayers. When she had concluded them, he did not let her rise, but laid his hand upon her head and kept it there in silence, as if praying himself. And Nelly went out with some awe, for papa's eyes looked as if they had tears in them.
Hamish had settled to work again, and Nelly would be a myth until the next morning, when Gerald Yorke arrived, dashing up in a hansom. He came in to Hamish at once, carrying his manuscript.
"You'll do me a favour, won't you, old friend?"
"What is it?" asked Hamish, the sunny smile on his face already an earnest of compliance. And Gerald undid his manuscript.