Harriet Wesden hurried away after her promise; Mattie, at the last moment, recalling to her notice the fact of the robbery, and reminding her of the way in which she ought to break the news to her father. Then the excited girl darted away to Camberwell, and it was like the stillness of the grave in the back parlour after her departure. Mattie went in for an instant to set the place to rights, and then returned to her watch in the shop, and to her many thoughts, born of that day's incidents. She was quite prepared for a visit from Mr. Wesden at a late hour, but Mr. Wesden's movements under excitement were not to be calculated upon; and we may say here that the knowledge of his loss did not bring him post-haste to Great Suffolk Street. Mattie was thinking of her loss, when the passage door opened, and the white head of Mr. Hinchford peered round and looked up at the clock, over the top shelf where the back stock was kept. The movement reminded Mattie of the time, and she glanced at the clock herself--_half-past nine_. "I thought the clock had stopped up-stairs," he said, by way of explanation for his appearance. "I had no idea it was so late," said Mattie. "I had no idea it was so early," responded Mr. Hinchford; adding, after a pause, "though I can't think where the boy has got to; he said he would be home early, as he had some accounts to look through." "It's not very late, sir, and if he has gone to Camberwell, not knowing Miss Harriet was here to-night----" "He always comes home first--I never knew him go anywhere without coming home first to tell me. But," with another look at the clock, "it's not so very late, as you say, Mattie." "He will be here in a minute." "I hope so," said Mr. Hinchford, going to the shop door, and looking down the street, "for it's coming on to rain, and he has no umbrella. The boy will catch his death of cold." After standing at the door for two or three minutes, the old gentleman turned to go up-stairs again. "It'll be a thorough wet night--I'll tell Ann to keep plenty of water in the boiler--nothing like your feet in hot water to stave off a cold." He retired. Half an hour afterwards he reappeared in the shop, excitable and fidgety. "I can't make it out," he said, after another inspection of the clock; "there's something wrong." "Perhaps he has gone to the play, sir." "Pooh! he hates plays," was the contemptuous comment to this; "he wouldn't waste his time in a playhouse. No, Mattie there's something wrong." "I don't think so," said Mattie, cheerfully. "I would not worry about his absence just yet, sir." "I'll give him another hour, and then I'll go down to the office and ask after him." "Or find him there, sir." "No, they're not busy, I think. He can't be there. Mattie," he said suddenly. "Have you noticed a difference in him lately?" "I--I fancy he seems, perhaps, a little graver; but then he's growing older and more manly every day."