‘Why, I have been otherwise engaged, Loo, in the evenings; and in the daytime old Bounderby has been keeping me at it rather. But I touch him up with you when he comes it too strong, and so we preserve an understanding. I say! Has father said anything particular to you to-day or yesterday, Loo?’ ‘No, Tom. But he told me to-night that he wished to do so in the morning.’ ‘Ah! That’s what I mean,’ said Tom. ‘Do you know where he is to-night?’—with a very deep expression. ‘No.’ ‘Then I’ll tell you. He’s with old Bounderby. They are having a regular confab together up at the Bank. Why at the Bank, do you think? Well, I’ll tell you again. To keep Mrs. Sparsit’s ears as far off as possible, I expect.’ With her hand upon her brother’s shoulder, Louisa still stood looking at the fire. Her brother glanced at her face with greater interest than usual, and, encircling her waist with his arm, drew her coaxingly to him. ‘You are very fond of me, an’t you, Loo?’ ‘Indeed I am, Tom, though you do let such long intervals go by without coming to see me.’ ‘Well, sister of mine,’ said Tom, ‘when you say that, you are near my thoughts. We might be so much oftener together—mightn’t we? Always together, almost—mightn’t we? It would do me a great deal of good if you were to make up your mind to I know what, Loo. It would be a splendid thing for me. It would be uncommonly jolly!’ Her thoughtfulness baffled his cunning scrutiny. He could make nothing of her face. He pressed her in his arm, and kissed her cheek. She returned the kiss, but still looked at the fire. ‘I say, Loo! I thought I’d come, and just hint to you what was going on: though I supposed you’d most likely guess, even if you didn’t know. I can’t stay, because I’m engaged to some fellows to-night. You won’t forget how fond you are of me?’ ‘No, dear Tom, I won’t forget.’ ‘That’s a capital girl,’ said Tom. ‘Good-bye, Loo.’ She gave him an affectionate good-night, and went out with him to the door, whence the fires of Coketown could be seen, making the distance lurid. She stood there, looking steadfastly towards them, and listening to his departing steps. They retreated quickly, as glad to get away from Stone Lodge; and she stood there yet, when he was gone and all was quiet. It seemed as if, first in her own fire within the house, and then in the fiery haze without, she tried to discover what kind of woof Old Time, that greatest and longest-established Spinner of all, would weave from the threads he had already spun into a woman. But his factory is a secret place, his work is noiseless, and his Hands are mutes. CHAPTER XV FATHER AND DAUGHTER