“There’s a friend o’ yours in the corner, Molly. Don’t disturb him. I’m goin’ to post a letter for him, and will be back directly.”
Bones went out, posted the letter in the common sewer, and returned home.
During the brief interval of his absence Tottie had come in—on a visit after her prolonged sojourn in the country. She was strangling her mother with a kiss when he entered.
“Oh, mother! I’m so happy, and so sorry!” she exclaimed, laughing and sobbing at once.
Tottie was obviously torn by conflicting emotions. “Take your time, darling,” said Mrs Bones, smoothing the child’s hair with her red toil-worn hand.
“Ay, take it easy, Tot,” said her father, with a meaning glance, that sent a chill to the child’s heart, while he sat down on a stool and began to fill his pipe. “What’s it all about?”
“Oh! it’s the beautiful country I’ve been in. Mother, you can’t think—the green fields and the trees, and, oh! the flowers, and no bricks—almost no houses—and—But did you know”—her grief recurred here—“that Mr Aspel ’as bin lost? an’ I’ve been tellin’ such lies! We came in to town, Miss Lillycrop an’ me, and we’ve heard about Mr Aspel from old Mr Blurt, who’s tryin’ to find him out with ’vertisements in the papers an’ detectives an’ a message-boy they call Phil, who’s a friend of Mr Aspel, an’ also of Peter.”
“Who’s Peter?” asked Mrs Bones.
“Ah, who’s Peter?” echoed Mr Bones, with a somewhat sly glance under his brows.
“He’s a message-boy, and such a dear fellow,” replied Tottie. “I don’t know his other name, he didn’t mention it, and they only call him little Peter, but he saved me from the fire; at least he tried—”