Mattie did not answer--she seemed very weak and ill, and not inclined to waste words foreign to her motive in appearing there. She followed the servant up-stairs, pausing on the first landing to take breath. "What's the matter with you--ain't you well?" asked the servant-maid. "No, I ain't--I'm just the tother thing." "Been ill?" "Scarlet fever--that's all." "Oh! lor a mussy on us!--keep further off! I can't bide fevers. We shall all be as red as lobsters in the morning." "It ain't catching now--Mother Watts didn't catch it--I wish she had!" "Will you go up-stairs now?" "Let's get a breath--I ain't so strong as I used to be--now then." Up the next flight, to the door of the first-floor front, where Sidney Hinchford, pale with suspense, was standing. "Have you got it?--have you got it, Mattie?" "No--I ain't got nothin'." "'Cept a fever, Master Sidney--tell your father to look out." A thin, large-veined hand protruded from the door, and dragged Master Hinchford suddenly backwards into the room; a tall, military-looking old gentleman, with white hair and white moustache, the instant afterwards occupied the place, and looked down sternly at the small intruder. "Keep where you are--I didn't know you had a fever, girl. Ann Packet, put the light on the bracket. That will do." Ann Packet set the chamber candlestick on a little bracket outside the drawing-room, drew her clothes tightly round her limbs, and keeping close to the wall, scuttled past the girl, whom fever had sorely stricken lately. Mattie dropped on to the stairs, placed her elbows on her knees, took her chin between her claw-like hands, and stared up at Mr. Hinchford. "I don't think you can catch anythin' from me, guv'nor." Governor looked down at Mattie, and reddened a little. "I'm not afraid of fever--it's only the boy I'm thinking about. Sidney," he called. "Yes, pa." "You can hear, if I leave the door open. Now, girl," addressing the diminutive figure on the stairs, "if you haven't brought the brooch, what was the good of coming here?" "To let you know I tried--that's all. I thought that all you might think that I'd stuck to it, you see. But I did try my hardest to get it back--because the young gent let me off when the bobbies would have walked me to quod. Lor bless you, sir, I'm not a reg'lar!" "A what?" "A reg'lar thief, sir. They've been trying hard to make me--Mother Watts and old Simes, and the rest--but it don't do. I was locked up once afore mother died, and mother was sorry--awful sorry, for _her_--you should have just heard her go on, when I come out agin. Oh! no, I'm not a reg'lar--I sings about the street for ha'pence, and goes to fairs, and begs--and so on, but I don't take things werry often. I'm a stray, sir!" "Ah!--God help you!" murmured the old gentleman. "I never had no father--and mother's dead now. I'm 'bliged to shift for myself. And oh! I just was hard up when I tooked the brooch." "And what became of it?"