But I won't let you; so just stop it; will you." Something new in Ascott's tone--speaking more of the resentful fierceness of the man than the pettishness of the boy--frightened his little aunt, and silenced her.

By-and-by she took comfort from the reflection that, as the lad had in his anger betrayed, he had beside him in London a monitor whose preaching would be so much wiser and more effectual than her own that she determined to say no more.
The rare hearing of Mr.Lyon's name--for, time and absence having produced their natural effect, except when his letter came, he was seldom talked about now--set Hilary thinking.
"Do you go to see him often ?" she said, at last.
"Who?
Mr.Lyon ?" And Ascott, delighted' to escape into a fresh subject, became quite cheerful and communicative.

"Oh, bless you! He wouldn't care for my going to him.

He lives in a two-pair back, only one room, 'which serves him for kitchen and parlor and all:' dines at a cook shop for nine-pence a day, and makes his own porridge night and morning.

He told me so once, for he isn't a bit ashamed of it.
But he must be precious hard up sometimes.