“How is Bobby?” asked the latter, “I have not found a moment to speak to you till now.”
“Thank you, sir, he’s better; much better. I fear he will be well too soon.”
“How so? That’s a strange remark, my girl.”
“It may seem strange, sir, but—you know—father’s very fond of Bobby.”
“Well, Hetty, that’s not a bad sign of your father.”
“Oh but, sir, father sits at his bedside when he’s sober, an’ has such long talks with him about robberies and burglaries, and presses him very hard to agree to go out with him when he’s well. I can’t bear to hear it, for dear Bobby seems to listen to what he says, though sometimes he refuses, and defies him to do his worst, especially when he—”
“Stay, dear girl. It is very very sad, but don’t tell me anything more about your father. Tell it all to Jesus, Hetty. He not only sympathises with, but is able to save—even to the uttermost.”
“Yes, thank God for that ‘uttermost,’” said the poor girl, clasping her hands quickly together. “Oh, I understood that when He saved me, and I will trust to it now.”
“And the gentleman who called on you,—has he been again?” asked the missionary.
“No, sir, he has only come once, but he has sent his butler three or four times with some money for us, and always with the message that it is from Miss Diana, to be divided between Bobby and me. Unfortunately father chanced to be at home the first time he came and got it all, so we got none of it. But he was out the other times. The butler is an oldish man, and a very strange one. He went about our court crying.”