“You will give him Stephen’s message,” suggested Nelly, “and then let him talk. There is nothing poor people enjoy so much as a good listener. They are quite happy when they can pour out their grievances into a willing ear. The sympathy of the rich is often a greater comfort to the poor than their alms.”
“Humph! That’s lucky, anyhow,” grunted Marmaduke. “Well, I’ll let the old gentleman have his head; I’ll listen till he pulls up of his own accord.” He had his hand on the door-latch, when Stephen’s muffled tones were heard calling from the room above. Nelly bounded up the stairs, and was back in an instant.
“He says you are to give Baines half a sovereign from him; he had nearly forgotten it.”
“Where is it?” said Marmaduke, holding out his hand.
“Stephen has not his purse about him, so he begs you will give it for him.”
“Neither have I mine,” said the young man.
“Well, run up for it; or shall I? Where is it?” inquired willing Nelly.
Marmaduke hesitated for a moment, and then said abruptly: “It doesn’t matter where it is; there’s nothing in it.”
“What have you done with your money? You had plenty a few days ago!” exclaimed Nelly in childlike surprise.
“I have lost it; I haven’t a brass farthing in the world!” He said this in a reckless, dogged sort of way, as if he did not care who knew it; and yet he spoke in an undertone. For one moment Nelly looked at him in blank astonishment.