“Of course ’tis just as your honor plases, but I’ll warrant you there would be no harm in going. Come, Billy,” he added, addressing the child, who by this time was standing close to Mrs. Hewson, “make your bow, and bid good night to master and mistress.” The boy did not stir, and Mrs. Hewson, taking his little hand in hers, said-- “You need not go home for half-an-hour, Gahan; stay and have a chat with the servants in the kitchen, and leave little Billy with me--and with the apples and nuts”--she added, smiling as she filled the child’s hands with fruit. “Thank you, Ma’am,” said the steward hastily. “I can’t stop--I’m in a hurry home, where I wanted to leave this brat to-night; but he _would_ follow me. Come, Billy; come this minute, you young rogue.” Still the child looked reluctant, and Mr. Hewson said peremptorily. “Don’t go yet, Gahan; I want to speak to you by-and-bye; and you know the mistress always likes to pet little Billy.” Without replying, the steward left the room; and the next moment his hasty footsteps resounded through the long flagged passage that led to the offices. “There’s something strange about Gahan, since his wife died,” remarked Mrs. Hewson. “I suppose ’tis grief for her that makes him look so darkly, and seem almost jealous when any one speaks to his child. Poor little Billy! your mother was a sore loss to you.” The child’s blue eyes filled with tears, and pressing closer to the lady’s side, he said:-- “Old Peggy doesn’t wash and dress me as nicely as mammy used.” “But your father is good to you?” “Oh, yes, Ma’am, but he’s out all day busy, and I’ve no one to talk to me as mammy used; for Peggy is quite deaf, and besides she’s always busy with the pigs and chickens.” “I wish I had you, Billy, to take care of, and to teach, for your poor mother’s sake.” “And so you may, Charlotte,” said her husband. “I’m sure Gahan, with all his odd ways, is too sensible a fellow not to know how much it would be for his child’s benefit to be brought up and educated by us, and the boy would be an amusement to us in this lonely house. I’ll speak to him about it before he goes home. Billy, my fine fellow, come here,” he continued, “jump up on my knee, and tell me if you’d like to live here always, and learn to read and write.” “I would, Sir, if I could be with father too.” “So you shall;--and what about old Peggy?” The child paused-- “I’d like to give her a pen’north of snuff and a piece of tobacco every week, for she said the other day that _that_ would make her quite happy.” Mr. Hewson laughed, and Billy prattled on, still seated on his knee; when a noise of footsteps on the ground, mingled with low suppressed talking, was heard outside. “James, listen! there’s the noise again.” It was now nearly dark, but Mr. Hewson, still holding the boy in his arms, walked towards the window and looked out.