Mattie:-A Stray Volume I Part 33

"And Mr. Wesden don't like me here till after the shop's shut--because he can't trust me, or I talk too much, I s'pose," she said; "but now, dear, sit down and tell me all about everything, to keep my sperits up."

Ann Packet and Mattie always supped together after the shop was closed--Ann Packet lived for supper time now, looked forward all the day to a "nice bit of talk" with the girl who had won upon those affections which three-fourths of her life had rusted from disuse.

"It's uncommon funny that I never had anybody to care about afore I knowed you, Mattie," she said regularly, once or twice a-week; "no father, mother, sisters, anybody, till you turned up like the ace in spekkilation. And now, let me hear you talk, my dear--I don't fancy that your tongue runs on quite so fast as it did."

Ann Packet curled herself in her chair, hazarded one little complaint about her ankles, which were setting in badly again with the Christmas season, and then prepared to make herself comfortable, when once more Mr. Hinchford appeared, with his hat, stick, and great cloak this time.

"Mattie, I can't stand it any longer--I'm off to the office in the City."

Mattie did not like the look of his excited face.

"I'd wait a little while longer, sir."

"No--something has happened to the boy."

"Shall I go with you, sir?"

"G.o.d bless the girl!--what for?"

"For company's sake--it's late for you to be alone, sir."

"Don't you think I can take care of myself?--am I so old, feeble, and drivelling as that? Are they right at the office, after all?" he added in a lower tone.

"I shouldn't like to be left here all alone," murmured Ann Packet; "particularly after there's been robberies, and----"

There was the rattle of cab-wheels in the street, coming nearer and nearer towards the house.

"Hark!" said Mattie and Mr. Hinchford in one breath.

The rattling ceased before the door, the cab stopped, Mr. Hinchford pointed to the door, and gasped, and gesticulated.

"Open, o--open the door!--he has met with an accident!"

"No, no, he has only taken a cab to get here earlier, and escape the wet," said Mattie, opening the door with a beating heart, nevertheless.

Sidney Hinchford, safe and sound, was already out of the cab and close to the door. Mattie met him with a bright smile of welcome, to which his sombre face did not respond. He came into the shop, stern and silent, and then looked towards his father.

"I thought you might have gone to bed, father," he said.

"Bed!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Hinchford, in disgust; "what has--what has----"

"Come up-stairs, I wish to speak to you."

Father and son went up-stairs to their room, leaving Mattie at the open door. The cab still remained drawn up there; the cabman stood by the horse's head, stolid as a judge in his manifold capes.

"Are you waiting for anything?" asked Mattie.

"For the gemman, to be sure."

"Going back again?"

"He says so--I spose it's all right," he added dubiously; "you've no back door which he can slip out of?"

"Slip out of!" cried the disgusted Mattie, slamming the front door in his face for his impudent a.s.sertion.

Meanwhile Sidney Hinchford was facing his father in the drawing-room.

"Sit down and take the news coolly, sir," he said; "there's nothing gained by putting yourself in a flurry."

"N--no, no, my boy, n--no."

"I have no time to spare, and I wish to leave you all right before I go."

"Go!"

"I am going for a day or two, very likely for a week, on a special mission for my employers--that is all that I can tell you without breaking the confidence placed in me--I must go at once."

"Bless my soul! what--what can I possibly do without you. Can't I go with you? Can't I--"

"You can do nothing but wait patiently for my return, believing that I am safe, and taking care of myself. Why, what are a few days?"

"Well, not much after all," said the father, wiping his forehead with his silk-handkerchief, "and there's no danger, of course?"

"Not any."

"And you are only going----"

"A journey of a few days. Try and calm yourself whilst I pack a few things in my portmanteau. There, that's well!"

Sidney pa.s.sed into the other room, leaving his father still struggling with the effects of his astonishment. The portmanteau must have been filled without any regard for neatness, for Sidney in a few minutes returned with it in his hands.

"Why, you should be proud of this journey of mine," he said with a forced lightness that could only have deceived his father; "think what it is to be chosen out of the whole office to undertake this business."

"It's a good sign. Yes, I see that now."

"And I shall be back sooner than you expect, perhaps. Why, you and I must not part like two silly girls, to whom the journey of a few miles is the event of a life. Now, good-bye, sir--G.o.d keep you strong and well till I come back again!"

"And you, my lad, and you, too."

"Amen. G.o.d grant it."

There was a strange earnestness in the son's voice, but the father was still too much excited to take heed.

"And now good-bye again," shaking his father's hands; "you'll stay here, sir, you'll not come down any more to-night."

"Yes, I will."

"You must try and keep calm; I will beg you as a favour to remain here, father."