"Ah! he grows a fine fellow--there isn't such another boy in the world--perhaps it's all a fancy of mine, after all." Mattie knew that it was no fancy; that even Sidney's care and histrionic efforts could not disguise his trouble entirely from the father. But she played the part of consoler to Mr. Hinchford as well as she was able, and the old gentleman, less disturbed in mind, returned to his room for the second time. But time stole on, and Mattie herself found a new anxiety added to those which had heretofore disturbed her. The wet night set in as Mr. Hinchford had prophesied; the boy came and put up the shutters; the clock ticked on towards eleven; all but the public-houses were closed in Great Suffolk Street, and there were few loiterers about. Ann Packet brought in the supper, and was informed of the day's two features of interest--the robbery, and the absence of Mr. Sidney. Ann Packet, of slow ideas herself, and slower still in having other ideas instilled into her, thought that the missing parcel was connected with the missing lodger, and so conglomerated matters irremediably. "You may depend upon it, Mattie, he'll bring the parcel back--it's one of his games--he was a rare boy for tricks when I knew him fust." "Ann, you've been asleep," said Mattie, sharply. "I couldn't help it," answered Ann, submissively; "it was very lonely down there, with no company but the _beadles_--and times ain't as they used to was, when you could read to me, and was more often down there." "Ah! times are altering," sighed Mattie. "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?" "God bless the girl!--what for?" "For company's sake--it's late for you to be alone, sir."