‘Is there any danger,’ he demanded, ‘that we shall be turned out of our old home?’
‘None, grandfather, that I know of.’
‘Then, my dear, do not let us say that we are poor. It sounds as though we were in sight of the workhouse; and that, you know,’ he concluded, ‘that is not true: no, no—not true.’
These words seemed to pacify the girl; and the two remained silent for a while. Rachel retained her place at the old man’s feet, her head drooping on his knee, his hand laid protectingly around her shoulder.
‘You are tired, Rachel,’ said the old man presently, noticing that her eyes were half-closed with sleep. ‘Go, my dear, get to bed. I shall find my way to my room soon. Don’t mind me.’
‘Shall you stay up, grandfather?’ asked Rachel, looking at him with surprise.
‘A little while, Rachel—a little while.’
The girl lingered, and looked reluctantly around the room. ‘Are you sure you would not like me to stay with you?’
‘Quite sure, my dear.—Good-night.’
The girl kissed her grandfather. Deep affection was expressed in her whole demeanour as she bent over him to say good-night. Then she placed a very ancient-looking candlestick on the table and left the room.