"And
what are you to do for it?"
"Just pass a couple of hours a day, delighting my own ears and heart.
Do you remember what Constance said, last night? Hamish, it is
_wonderful_, that this help should so soon have come to me!"
"Stay! Where are you going?" interrupted Hamish, as Arthur was turning
into a side-street.
"This is the nearest way home."
"I had rather not go that way."
"Why?" exclaimed Arthur, in surprise. "Hamish, how funny you look! What
is the matter?"
"Must I tell you? It is for your ear alone, mind. There's a certain
tradesman's house down there that I'd rather not pass; he has a habit
of coming out and dunning me. Do you remember Mr. Dick Swiveller?"
Hamish laughed gaily. He would have laughed on his road to prison: it
was in his nature. But Arthur seemed to take a leap from his high
ropes. "Is it Simms?" he breathed.
"No, it is not Simms. Who has been telling you anything about Simms,
Arthur? It is not so very much that I owe Simms. What is this good luck
of yours?"
Arthur did not immediately reply. A dark shadow had fallen upon his
spirit, as a forerunner of evil.
CHAPTER IX.
HAMISH'S CANDLES.
Old Judith sat in her kitchen. Her hands were clasped upon her knees,
and her head was bent in thought. Rare indeed was it to catch Judith
indulging in a moment's idleness. She appeared to be holding soliloquy
with herself.
"It's the most incomprehensible thing in the world! I have heard of
ghosts--and, talking about ghosts, that child was in a tremor, last
night, again--I'm sure he was.
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