He was, in fact, musing
upon a question which be found it very difficult to answer in any
satisfactory way. 'What's the meaning of all this?' he asked
himself, and not for the first time. 'What makes them treat me in
this fashion? A week ago I came here to look up Mrs. Peckover, just
because I'd run down to my last penny, and I didn't know where to
find a night's lodging. I'd got an idea, too, that I should like to
find out what had become of my child, whom I left here nine or ten
years ago; possibly she was still alive, and might welcome the duty
of supporting her parent. The chance was, to be sure, that the girl
had long since been in her grave, and that Mrs. Peckover no longer
lived in the old quarters; if I discovered the woman, on the other
hand, she was not very likely to give me an affectionate reception,
seeing that I found it inconvenient to keep sending her money for
Jane's keep in the old days. The queer thing is, that everything
turned out exactly the opposite of what I had expected. Mrs.
Peckover had rather a sour face at first, but after a little talk
she began to seem quite glad to see me. She put me into a room,
undertook to board me for a while--till I find work, and I wonder
when _that_'ll be?--and blest if this strapping daughter of hers
doesn't seem to have fallen in love with me from the first go off!
As for my girl, I'm told she was carried off by her grandfather, my
old dad, three years ago, and where they went nobody knows.
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