Her father was somewhat later than usual in returning from work.  When he entered her room she looked at him anxiously, and as he seemed to have nothing particular to say, she asked if he had seen Mr. Kirkwood.

‘No, my dear, I ain’t seen him.’

Their eyes met for an instant.  Clara was in anguish at the thought that another night and day must pass and nothing be altered.

‘When did you see him last?  A week or more ago, wasn’t it?’

‘About that.’

’Couldn’t you go round to his lodgings to-night?  I know he’s got something he wants to speak to you about.’

He assented.  But on his going into the other room Eagles met him with a message from Sidney, anticipating his design, and requesting him to step over to Bed Lion Street in the course of the evening.  John instantly announced this to his daughter.  She nodded, but said nothing.

In a few minutes John went on his way.  The day’s work had tired him exceptionally, doubtless owing to his nervousness, and again on the way to Sidney’s he had recourse to a dose of the familiar stimulant.  With our eyes on a man of Hewett’s station we note these little things; we set them down as a point scored against him; yet if our business were with a man of leisure, who, owing to worry, found his glass of wine at luncheon and again at dinner an acceptable support, we certainly should not think of paying attention to the matter.  Poverty makes a crime of every indulgence.  John himself came out of the public-house in a slinking way, and hoped Kirkwood might not scent the twopenny-worth of gin.

Sidney was in anything but a mood to detect this little lapse in his visitor.  He gave John a chair, but could not sit still himself.  The garret was a spacious one, and whilst talking he moved from wall to wall.

’You know that I saw Clara last night?  She told me she should mention it to you.’

’Yes, yes.  I was afraid she’d never have made up her mind to it.  It was the best way for you to see her alone first, poor girl!  You won’t mind comin’ to us now, like you used?’

‘Did she tell you what she wished to speak to me about?’

‘Why, no, she hasn’t.  Was there—­anything particular?’

’She feels the time very heavy on her hands.  It seems you don’t like the thought of her looking for employment?’

John rose from his chair and grasped the back of it.

‘You ain’t a-goin’ to encourage her to leave us?  It ain’t that you was talkin’ about, Sidney?’

‘Leave you?  Why, where should she go?’

‘No, no; it’s all right; so long as you wasn’t thinkin’ of her goin’ away again.  See, Sidney, I ain’t got nothing to say against it, if she can find some kind of job for home.  I know as the time must hang heavy.  There she sit, poor thing! from mornin’ to night, an’ can’t get her thoughts away from herself.  It’s easy enough to understand, ain’t it?  I took a book home for her the other day, but she didn’t seem to care about it.  There she sit, with her poor face on her hands, thinkin’ and thinkin’.  It breaks my heart to see her.  I’d rather she had some work, but she mustn’t go away from home for it.’