“Well, I never did,” said the stout lady, coming farther into the shop and regarding the visitor. “I shouldn't 'ave knowed 'im. If you'd asked me who 'e was I couldn't ha' told you—I shouldn't 'ave knowed 'im from Adam.”
Jack shook his head. “It's hard to be forgotten like this,” he said, sadly. “Even Miss Kybird had forgotten me, after all that had passed between us.”
“Eh?” said Mr. Kybird.
“Oh, don't take any notice of him,” said his daughter. “I'd like to see myself.”
Mr. Kybird paid no heed. He was still thinking of the son of Captain Nugent being indebted to him for lodging, and the more he thought of the idea the better he liked it.
“Well, now you're 'ere,” he said, with a great assumption of cordiality, “why not come in and 'ave a cup o' tea?”
The other hesitated a moment and then, with a light laugh, accepted the offer. He followed them into the small and untidy back parlour, and being requested by his hostess to squeeze in next to 'Melia at the small round table, complied so literally with the order that that young lady complained bitterly of his encroachments.
“And where do you think of sleeping tonight?” inquired Mr. Kybird after his daughter had, to use her own expressive phrase, shown the guest “his place.”
Mr. Nugent shook his head. “I shall get a lodging somewhere,” he said, airily.
“There's a room upstairs as you might 'ave if you liked,” said Mr. Kybird, slowly. “It's been let to a very respectable, clean young man for half a crown a week. Really it ought to be three shillings, but if you like to 'ave it at the old price, you can.”