"Send in the bills," Mr. Ruck went on, rising to his feet. "Don't
hesitate, Sophy. I don't care what you do now. In for a penny, in
for a pound."

Miss Ruck joined her mother, with a little toss of her head, and we
followed the ladies to the carriage. "In your place," said Miss
Sophy to her father, "I wouldn't talk so much about pennies and
pounds before strangers."

Poor Mr. Ruck appeared to feel the force of this observation, which,
in the consciousness of a man who had never been "mean," could hardly
fail to strike a responsive chord. He coloured a little, and he was
silent; his companions got into their vehicle, the front seat of
which was adorned with a large parcel. Mr. Ruck gave the parcel a
little poke with his umbrella, and then, turning to me with a rather
grimly penitential smile, "After all," he said, "for the ladies
that's the principal interest."



CHAPTER VII.



Old M. Pigeonneau had more than once proposed to me to take a walk,
but I had hitherto been unable to respond to so alluring an
invitation. It befell, however, one afternoon, that I perceived him
going forth upon a desultory stroll, with a certain lonesomeness of
demeanour that attracted my sympathy. I hastily overtook him, and