The door of the room where Faith lay was open as he pa.s.sed it, but some queer impulse prevented him from entering. She had said that she did not want him--well, he could wait.

But his heart was sore as he went up and down the narrow streets in search of Peg.

She was at the door of the house when he reached it, laughing and talking with a youth in a loud check suit and a highly-coloured tie, and her handsome face hardened as Forrester approached and raised his hat.

She vouchsafed no answer to his "Good evening," only stared as he explained his errand.

"I think you are a friend of my wife's. She is ill, and has asked for you." He paused, and the youth in the check suit lounged off and down the street.

"My name is Forrester," the Beggar Man went on after a moment. "I don't know whether you have heard of me, but I have heard of you, and I know you are Faith's friend. Will you come? She is in great trouble. Her mother died suddenly this evening."

"Died!" Peg's eyes opened in horror. "Oh, poor kid!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"Here, wait a minute." She turned into the house, and he heard her shouting to someone that she was going out and might not be home all night. Then she came back to him, banged the door behind her, and they set off down the road together.

People stared at them curiously as they pa.s.sed, but Forrester was unconscious of it. He was not greatly prepossessed with Peg, but then few people were at first sight, although she was a handsome girl and magnificently built.

She was gaudily dressed for one thing, and Forrester hated gaudy clothes, and she wore long silver gipsy earrings and a string of bright green beads dangling from her neck.

She did not speak to him till they were nearly at their destination.

Then she said bluntly:

"You've come back then?"

Forrester looked at her.

"Yes. I came back last night."

She gave a short laugh.

"I told Faith I didn't believe you would," she said.

He coloured angrily.

"I am much obliged to you, I am sure," he said, curtly.

Peg laughed again.

"Oh, don't mention it!" she said, airily. "I'm glad to be wrong for once in my life." She paused. "Faith's mighty fond of you," she added, almost threateningly.

Forrester frowned: he resented this girl's blunt, downright manner of speech, but Peg went on, quite indifferent to his obvious annoyance.

"She went for me hot and strong when I told her you were Ralph Scammel.

Up like a spitfire she was!"

"When you told her--what?"

Her blue eyes met his defiantly.

"When I told her that you were Scammel and owned Heeler's," she repeated. "I knew, and I didn't see why she shouldn't know, too! Not that she believed it, though," she added, with a touch of chagrin. The Beggar Man made no answer, but he quickened his steps a little. He thought of Faith's strange manner towards him and Peg's words seemed all at once to have explained a great deal.

CHAPTER VII

Peg took control of the house as absolutely as if she had always been its mistress, and, in spite of his dislike of her, Nicholas Forrester felt a great sense of relief. She was capable, whatever else she might not be, and he knew she was fond of Faith.

Before he left the house that night he had a little conversation with her.

"Can you stay with my wife?" he asked.

Peg looked him up and down coolly.

"I suppose you've got so much money that you've forgotten that some people have to earn their living," she said bluntly, but without intentional insolence. "How do you suppose I'm going on if I stay here for nothing?"

"I can make it worth your while," he said, speaking as bluntly as she had spoken.

Peg laughed.

"Oh, well, if it's to be a business deal."

She told him what she earned at Heeler's, and asked double the amount if she consented to stay with Faith.

"You won't be wanting me for long, anyway," she said, "so I'm for making hay while the sun shines."

The Beggar Man gave her notes for the amount she asked without a word, and a faint admiration crept into her blue eyes.

"Look here," she said, "are you acting on the square with Faith? That's what I want to know."

The Beggar Man met her gaze steadily.

"Well, I married her, didn't I?" he asked.

"I know, but you've let her down in other ways; you never told her that Heeler's belonged to you."

"That is no business of yours."

"Perhaps not," she agreed, "but you'll find it is of hers. She is only a kid, and soft in some ways, but she can be hard as nails when she chooses, beneath all that softness, and you'll find it out."

"Very well. I don't need you to tell me about it, anyway. Take care of her--and the twins--that's all I ask of you."

"I shall take care of them right enough," she answered laconically.

"But not because you've paid me, but because I'm fond of them--see?"

She challenged him defiantly.

The Beggar Man smiled grimly.