“Ther’ yoh are, father, hot ‘n’ hot,” with her face on fire,—­“ther’—­yoh—­are,—­coaxin’ to be eatin’.—­Why, Mr. Holmes!  Father!  Now, ef yoh jes’ hedn’t hed yer supper?”

She came up, coaxingly.  What brooding brown eyes the poor cripple had!  Not many years ago he would have sat down with the two poor souls and made a hearty meal of it:  he had no heart for such follies now.

Old Yare stood in the background, his hat in his hand, stooping in his submissive negro fashion, with a frightened watch on Holmes.

“Do you stay here, Lois?” he asked, kindly, turning his back on the old man.

“On’y to bring his supper.  I couldn’t bide all night ‘n th’ mill,”—­the old shadow coming on her face,—­“I couldn’t, yoh know. He doesn’t mind it.”

She glanced quickly from one to the other in the silence, seeing the fear on her father’s face.

“Yoh know father, Mr. Holmes?  He’s back now.  This is him.”

The old man came forward, humbly.

“It’s me, Master Stephen.”

The sullen, stealthy face disgusted Holmes.  He nodded, shortly.

“Yoh’ve been kind to my little girl while I was gone,” he said, catching his breath.  “I thank yoh, master.”

“You need not.  It was for Lois.”

“’Twas fur her I comed back hyur.  ’Twas a resk,”—­with a dumb look of entreaty at Holmes,—­“but fur her I thort I’d try it.  I know ’twas a resk; but I thort them as cared fur Lo wud be merciful.  She’s a good girl, Lo.  She’s all I hev.”

Lois brought a box over, lugging it heavily.

“We hevn’t chairs; but yoh’ll sit down, Mr. Holmes?” laughing as she covered it with a cloth.  “It’s a warrm place, here.  Father studies ’n his watch, ‘n’ I’m teacher,”—­showing the torn old spelling-book.

The old man came eagerly forward, seeing the smile flicker on Holmes’s face.

“It’s slow work, master,—­slow.  But Lo’s a good teacher, ‘n’ I’m tryin’,—­I’m tryin’ hard.”

“It’s not slow, Sir, seein’ father hedn’t ’dvantages, like me.  He was a”—­

She stopped, lowering her voice, a hot flush of shame on her face.

“I know.”

“Ben’t that ’n ‘xcuse, master, seein’ I knowed noght at the beginnin’?  Thenk o’ that, master.  I’m tryin’ to be a different man.  Fur Lo.  I am tryin’.”

Holmes did not notice him.

“Good-night, Lois,” he said, kindly, as she lighted his lamp.

He put some money on the table.

“You must take it,” as she looked uneasy.  “For Tiger’s board, say.  I never see him now.  A bright new frock, remember.”

She thanked him, her eyes brightening, looking at her father’s patched coat.

The old man followed Holmes out.

“Master Holmes”—­

“Have done with this,” said Holmes, sternly.  “Whoever breaks law abides by it.  It is no affair of mine.”

The old man clutched his hands together fiercely, struggling to be quiet.