"That's all," said Revitts, chuckling. "He showed me the back seams of his coat directly; but I followed him up and moved him on. I don't think he'll show himself much more about here, my lad." Revitts was right. Lister did not hang about our neighbourhood so much after that interview; but it had the effect of sending him back to annoy Miss Carr; so that, day by day, his actions formed a problem that it became very difficult to solve, and we little knew then how malignantly he was fighting against Hallett, whose love he must have suspected. Time glided on. Mr Jabez used to come regularly to Ormond Street. The model and its progress seemed to give a fresh interest to the old man's life, and, in addition, he took a remarkable liking to Linny. Mrs Hallett, too, showed a fancy for him, after a few tearful words of opposition to the way in which he encouraged Hallett in his folly. "Folly, ma'am? it's no such thing. He'll be a great man yet, and a benefactor to his kind. Spread of knowledge, you know." "I don't understand you, Mr Rowle," said the poor woman plaintively; "but you may be right. All I know is, that it takes up a great deal of his time." "Couldn't be better spent, my dear madam. Do you know what it means?" "No," said Mrs Hallett, "only neglect of his poor suffering mother." "Patience, my dear madam, patience," said Mr Jabez. "I'll tell you what it means. Pleasant changes for you; seaside; a nice invalid-carriage; silk attire for little Miss Linny here, and servants to wait upon you. Bless my soul, ma'am!" he cried flourishing his snuff-box, and taking a liberal pinch, "you ought to be proud of your son." "I am, Mr Rowle," she said, plaintively; "but if you would kindly oblige me by not taking so much snuff. It makes--makes me sneeze." "My dear madam," exclaimed the little man, closing his box with a snap, "I beg your pardon. Bad habit--very bad habit, really." Linny burst out into a merry, bird-like laugh that made me start with pleasure. It was so fresh and bright, and it was so long since anything but a faint smile had been seen upon her face, that it was like a pleasant augury of happier days to come. The old man turned round and smiled and nodded at her, evidently enjoying it too; and when, some ten minutes after, he was going up with me to Hallett's attic, he stopped on the landing and tapped my arm with his snuff-box. "Grace," he said, "I am waking up more and more to the fact that I have been an old fool!" "Indeed! Why?" "Because I've shut myself up all my life, and grown selfish and crusted. I don't think I'm such a very bad sort of fellow when you get through the bark." "I'm sure you are not, Mr Rowle," I said. "Humph! Thankye, Grace. Well, you always did seem to like me." "But what do you mean about being an--" "Old fool? There, say it if you like. I mean about women--young girls--ladies, you know. They're very nice." "Yes, that they are," I cried eagerly.