“To save me!” he repeated.
“Yes. What is save, Mr. William? Mamma said it is something good.”
“I—I don’t know,” he replied, both puzzled and embarrassed. Religion was about the last subject he would have thought of; and when the chaplain mentioned it professionally, the brilliant, scornful eye of Jeffries had often checked the words upon his lips. But that his darling and idol should pray for him, was a very different thing.
Steps were heard returning. Jeffries hastily snatched the little hands still stretched through the bars, kissed them passionately, then turned away from the door.
“Come, little lady!” the chaplain called out.
“Good-bye, Mr. William!” Minnie said, with her face pressed close to the grating.
He echoed her good-bye hoarsely, without looking round.
“Good-bye!” she said again, lingering, and wishing to see his face. “I shall come soon again.”
He made no reply, and she was obliged to go. But no sooner had she gone than he sprang to the door again, and listened hungrily for the sound of her retreating footsteps, cursing the chaplain’s heavy boots and empty talk. It was her last visit to him there, he knew.
The warden had gone away from home for a day or two, and the deputy had entire charge. So completely had Jeffries’ appearance imposed on him, he consented to allow him the privilege of presenting to Minnie Raynor her playhouse with his own hands.