He nodded and placed the packet in his breast-pocket, all three then rising to go, for it was past twelve, and as Tom Girtley and I stood at the door, we saw the two old men go down the street, arm-in-arm, till they passed by the lamp-post and disappeared. Then, after a hearty good-night, Tom Girtley took his departure, and I went up to bed, to lie for hours thinking about my life with Mr Blakeford, and wondering whether he had defrauded me over the question of my father's property. I had always felt that I was in his debt, and meant some day to repay him all he said that my father owed; in fact, Miss Carr had been so liberal to me in the way of pocket-money, that I had forty pounds saved up for that purpose; but now this came like a revelation, and there was a delightful feeling of triumph in the idea that I might perhaps bring a thorough scoundrel to book. Then all at once I began to think about Hetty--pretty, gentle little Hetty, who had been so kind to me when I was a miserable unhappy boy, and the hours when I saw her seemed like gleams of light, amongst so much darkness. What would Hetty be like after all these years, I wondered; and then I began to blame myself for not asking Mr Rowle more about her, and at last, with the memory of the bright affectionate child filling my thoughts, I dropped off to sleep, to dream once more about Mr Blakeford, and that I was on the road, with him in full chase. It was quite a treat to get out of bed and away from the nightmare-like dreams of the past, and after a sharp walk and breakfast, I made my way round by Mr Jabez Rowle's lodgings, to have a few words with Mr Peter, before going to Lambeth. I found the old man alone, smoking a long pipe with his hat on, and his brother gone. His face lit up as he saw me, and after a little conversation about the past-- "When are you going back to Rowford?" I said. "Want to get rid of me?" he replied. "No, no, of course not." "Don't know that I'm going back at all," he said. "Jabez and I haven't seen much of each other lately. Think I shall stay." "Did--have--did you ever see much of Miss Blakeford?" I said, feeling conscious as I spoke that I was growing hot. "Often," said the old man, looking at me intently. "She often asked about you." "About me?" I said. "Yes: how you got on, and whether you were coming back." "What is she like now?" I said. "Of course she is not a little girl now." "Little girl? No: I should think not. Grow'd into an angel, that's what she is." I could not ask any more, but promising to go in and see him in the evening, I hurried off to the works, thinking that I should very much like to see Hetty Blakeford again, and wondering whether she would see much change in me.