The wanderer had returned, and he and his helpless child were to be received under his roof. Was he glad or sorry for this? Was the burden or the joy the greater? Would his home life be gladdened or still further depressed by these new inmates? Thorold could not answer these questions; his straightforward, sincere nature only grasped the one fact.
"It is my duty. With all his faults and follies, he is my only brother. God do so to me and more also, if I refuse to help my own flesh and blood!"
Althea was very much moved when Waveney carried home the news that evening. She drove down to High Street so early the next morning that Joanna was still doing her marketing. She found Tristram sitting by the fire, with Bet on his knee. He put down the child when he saw a stranger.
"Do you remember an old friend, Tristram?" she said, holding out her hand, and looking at him kindly. Then a sudden light dawned on him.
"Is it—can it be Althea?" he asked; and as she smiled he wrung her hands so energetically that she winced with pain. "Oh, yes, of course, I recognise you now. You are just the same, Althea. You are not a bit changed all these years."
"No, I have only grown older; we all do that, you know. And this is your little girl, Tristram? But she is not like you."
"No, Bet takes after her mother; but Ella was pretty, and Bet is not, bless her." Then Betty, who was snugly ensconced in Althea's arm, peeped out at her father with a protesting face.
"Did you want your little Bet to be pretty, dad?" she asked, rather sadly.
"No, my pet," he returned, laughing. "I don't want her any different."
"Oh, I am glad of that," returned the child; and then she frowned, anxiously. "You are quite sure, dad? I could try very hard, you know; every one can try hard to be pretty." And then, in a low voice, "And I could ask God to help me. Mother always did say, I might ask for anything I want; and I could just say, 'Dad wants his little girl to be real pretty, so please make me so for ever and for ever.—Amen.'"