"You will have gathered, from the conversation you accidentally overheard yesterday, that our good friend Mr. Byfield is naturally restive at the prospect of providing for the wants not of one person alone, but of a family. In that restiveness I cordially agree with him; I feel that it is time a growing lad—or youth—or young man—whichever you prefer—should be doing something to provide for his own wants. Mr. Byfield is interested in the welfare of your sister, and I foresee for her an alliance in the future which will lift her into that sphere to which I have always felt the family should properly belong.
"Mr. Byfield understands that father and child must not be separated; therefore I accompany Bessie. We are about to start on a voyage, but our ultimate destination is unknown; it will, however, probably be some foreign port. Let me advise you, my son, to keep a stout heart, and to wrest from the world that portion which belongs equally to every one of her sons. I shall expect to hear that you are doing well, and are a credit to the family whose name you bear."
Your father,
"Daniel Meggison."
Aubrey Meggison remained for some minutes plunged in gloom after reading the letter; then he said some uncomplimentary things concerning that father who had been so willing to desert him. Child of that father, however, he came quickly to the conclusion that something must be done. He shivered at the thought of being left alone in the world—even such a world as that of Arcadia Street—with no one to feed him, and with no convenient Bessie from whom to borrow half-crowns and shillings.
"Only thing to be done, as far as I can see, is to stick to the guv'nor," he murmured disconsolately. "The guv'nor'll stick to Bessie, and I suppose Bessie'll stick to that bounder Byfield. Well, there'll be a nice string of us; and even if I am at the tail-end of it, I don't mean to be dropped. Only thing is—where have they gone to?"
He knew that it was quite useless to raise a hue and cry, because that would have set others on the track, and so have spoilt his own game. He determined to make cautious inquiries, and in the meantime to appear quite unsuspicious. And it happened that he received assistance from an unexpected quarter.
Mrs. Ewart-Crane had had a sleepless night. She saw herself flouted and laughed at by this slip of a girl who had been picked out of a certain slum called Arcadia Street—saw in imagination that imp of common wickedness known as Bessie Meggison setting her at naught, and leading Gilbert Byfield where she would. Mrs. Ewart-Crane thought of her daughter, and of that daughter's future—felt that this boy-and-girl courtship of years before should be made a binding thing once for all. If Mr. Gilbert Byfield did not know what was due to himself and his friends, he must be taught; and Mrs. Ewart-Crane, as a lady and a mother (for so she reckoned herself, in that order and in those actual words) was the one to teach him.
Rising after that troubled night, she determined to wait until the unlucky Jordan Tant should put in an appearance; she meant to seize upon him as a convenient messenger. It happened, however, that Mr. Jordan Tant was quite content to let well alone; he believed that Gilbert was gone, and was safely out of the way for a considerable time to come. Tant would very gladly have carried the ladies back to London in due course, there to teach them to forget the existence of any such person as Gilbert Byfield.
With this object in view, Mr. Jordan Tant, suspecting that he might be wanted in the business, kept out of the way; so that it happened that it was quite late in the afternoon—long after repeated messages had been sent down to the inn to summon him—that he put in a sheepish appearance at the cottage where dwelt Mrs. Ewart-Crane and her daughter.