“Your two years’ trouble haven’t cast out the spirit of irreverence, youngster,” said he.
“It is jolly to hear myself called youngster,” said the boy, in a parenthesis; “it reminds me of the good old days.”
“Before Bolsover?” said Jeffreys sadly.
“Look here! If you go back to that again, and pull any more of those long faces, Jeff, I’ll be angry with you. Wasn’t all that affair perhaps a blessing in the long run? It sent me to a school that’s done me more good than Bolsover; and as for you—well, but for it you’d never have had that sweet visitor this morning.”
“Don’t talk of that. That is one of the chief drawbacks to my going back into civilisation, as you call it.”
“A very nice drawback—if it’s the only one—”
“It’s not—there’s another.”
“What is that?”
“My babies!”
It was a strange, happy night, that last in the Storr Alley garret. Jeffreys had begged Raby to let them stay where they were in peace for that day; and she considerately kept their counsel till the morning. Then she told her father the strange story.