Woodstock's peremptory bidding. Ida at
once wrote to Waymark, begging him to come; he arrived early next
morning, and learnt the state of things.
"The doctor tells me," said Ida, "there is a case in Litany Lane. It
is very cruel. Grandfather went to make arrangements for having the
houses repaired."
"There I recognise your hand," Waymark observed, as she made a
pause.
"Why have you so deserted us?" Ida asked. "Why do we see you so
seldom?"
"It is so late every evening before I leave the library, and I am
busy with all sorts of things."
They had little to say to each other, Waymark promised to
communicate at once with a friend of Mr. Woodstock's, a man of
business, and to come again as soon as possible, to give any help he
could. Whether Ida had been told of his position remained uncertain.
For Ida they were sad, long days. Troubles which she had previously
managed to keep in the background now again beset her. She had
attached herself to her grandfather; gratitude for all that he was
doing at her wish strengthened her affection, and she awaited each
new day with fear. Waymark seemed colder to her in these days than
he had ever been formerly. The occasion ought, she felt, to have
brought them nearer together; but on his side there appeared to be
no such feeling.
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