But dear Abel was gone, and his wife, clasping her hands, looked helplessly and hopelessly round the room. Then a gleam of light seemed to come into her eyes. She looked up and went down on her knees.
Meanwhile Abel went into a public-house, and, calling for a pint of beer, bade his child drink, but Tottie declined. He swore with an oath that he’d compel her to drink, but suddenly changed his mind and drank it himself.
“Now, Tot, tell father all about your visit to Miss Stivergill. She’s very rich—eh?”
“Oh! awfully,” replied Tottie, who felt an irresistible drawing to her father when he condescended to speak to her in kindly tones.
“Keeps a carriage—eh?”
“No, nor a ’oss—not even a pony,” returned the child.
“An’ no man-servant about the house?”
“No—not as I seed.”
“Not even a gardener, now?”
“No, only women—two of ’em, and very nice they was too. One fat and short, the other tall and thin. I liked the fat one best.”