But a question of Jack’s waited for an answer.

‘That’s only my sister’s fun,’ Luke replied, with a smile.  ’There’s no reason why I shouldn’t like her.’

‘I think she don’t look bad,’ Jack remarked, as if allowing himself to stray from chemistry to a matter of trivial interest.  He added:  ’But she don’t come up to Miss Nancarrow.  I like her; she’s the right kind of girl, don’t you think so?’

‘First-rate.’

’I say, Mr. Ackroyd, why don’t you never come now and call for her, like you used to?’

‘Used to?  When?’

‘Why, you know well enough.  Not long ago,’

‘Oh, years ago!’

‘No, not more than a year ago.’

‘Yes, Jack; a year and a half.’

’Well it didn’t seem so long.  I say, why don’t you?  I’ve only just thought of it.’

’There’s no need to call.  I see her sometimes, and that’s enough for friends, isn’t it?’

‘I believe you was going to marry Miss Nancarrow, wasn’t you?’

‘Hollo!  Who told you such a thing as that?’

’Nobody.  I thought of it myself.  It looks like it, when I think.  I’m older now, you see, than I was then; I see more into things.’

Ackroyd laughed heartily.

‘It seems you do.’

‘Well but, tell me, Mr. Ackroyd.’

’No, I shan’t.  When you get a bit older still, you’ll know that men have no business to talk about such things.  Understand that, Jack.  Never get into the way of talking about things that aren’t your business; there’s been a deal of harm done by that.’

‘Has there?’

Luke was silent.  The boy continued: 

‘You’re sure you are friends with Miss Nancarrow?’

’Of course I am, capital friends.  Why, we were both of us on the Greenwich boat last Sunday, and we laughed and talked no end of time.’

But Luke was ready to leave the room.  He appointed another evening when Jack should come, and the lad scampered off.

Leaving Ackroyd to go down and have supper with his sister and Lydia, and with Mr. Poole, who had just come home from a late job, let us go after Jack into Newport Street.  As he reached the house, his father was just coming out.

‘You’re too late,’ said the latter, with a shake of the head.  ’Tell Mr. Ackroyd you must be back by nine.  What about your lessons, eh?’

‘Lessons!’ exclaimed Jack, scornfully.  ’Do them in half a crack before breakfast.  Why, there’s nothing but a bit of jography, and some kings, and three proportion sums, and a page of——­’

’All right.  Go to bed quietly.  Nelly’s asleep long ago.  I shall be back in half an hour.’

Jack went very softly upstairs.  In the one room which was still the entire home of his father and himself and his little sister, he found a lamp burning low.  The child was in her small cot, sleeping peacefully.  Jack began to unbutton his acid-stained waistcoat, having seized a piece of bread and butter that lay waiting for him, when his thoughts intervened to suspend the operation of undressing.  He left the room again, and looked at the door on the opposite side of the landing.  He saw a light beneath it.  He advanced and rapped softly.