She's given me a shilling, and I'm sure
it wasn't worth half that, all I did. You'll come tomorrow, Mary?'

'I will if--you know what?'

'Now did you ever know such a girl!' Lydia exclaimed, looking round at
the others. 'You understand what she means, Mrs. Bower?'

'I dare say I do, my dear.'

'But I can't promise, Mary. I don't like to leave Thyrza always.'

'I don't see why she shouldn't come too,' said Mary. Lydia shook her
head.

'Well, you come at four o'clock, at all events, and we'll see all about
it. Good-bye, grandad.'

She hurried away, throwing back a bright look as she passed into the
shop.

Paradise Street runs at right angles into Lambeth Walk. As Lydia
approached this point, she saw that Ackroyd stood there, apparently
waiting for her. He was turning over the leaves of one of his books,
but kept glancing towards her as she drew near. He wished to speak, and
she stopped.

'Do you think,' he said, with diffidence, 'that your sister would come
out to-morrow after tea?'

Lydia kept her eyes down.

'I don't know, Mr. Ackroyd,' she answered. 'I'll ask her; I don t think
she's going anywhere.'

'It won't be like last Sunday?'

'She really didn't feel well. And I can't promise, you know Mr.
Ackroyd.'

She met his eyes for an instant, then looked along the street There was
a faint smile on her lips, with just a suspicion of some trouble.

'But you _will_ ask her?'

'Yes, I will.'

She added in a lower voice, and with constraint:

'I'm afraid she won't go by herself.'

'Then come with her. Do! Will you?'

'If she asks me to, I will.'

Lydia moved as if to leave him, but he followed.

'Miss Trent, you'll say a word for me sometimes?'

She raised her eyes again and replied quickly:

'I never say nothing against you, Mr. Ackroyd.'

'Thank you. Then I'll be at the end of the Walk at six o'clock, shall
I?'

She nodded, and walked quickly on. Ackroyd turned back into Paradise
Street. His cheeks were a trifle flushed, and he kept making nervous
movements with his head. So busy were his thoughts that he
unconsciously passed the door of the house in which he lived, and had
to turn when the roar of a train passing over the archway reminded him
where he was.

CHAPTER IV

THYRZA SINGS

Lydis, too, betrayed some disturbance of thought as she pursued her
way. Her face was graver than before: once or twice her lips moved as
if she were speaking to herself.

After going a short