'I'm very sorry, you see, old man yon know I'd like you to stay—I want you to stay. . . It isn't my fault—it's the missis' doings. I've done my best with her, but I can't help it. I've been more like a master in my own house—more comfortable—and I've been better treated since I've had you to back me up. . . . I'll feel mighty lonely, anyway, when you're gone. . . But . . you know . . as soon as her sister goes . . you know . .'
Here poor Brown broke down—very sorry he had spoken at all; but Steely came to the rescue with a ray of light.
'What's the matter with the little room at the back?' he asked.
'Oh. we couldn't think of putting you there,' said Brown, with a last effort; 'it's not fixed up; you wouldn't be comfortable, and, besides, it's damp, and you'd catch your death of cold. It was never meant for anything but a washhouse. I'm sorry I didn't get another room built on to the house.'
'Bosh!' interrupted Steelman, cheerfully. 'Catch a cold! Here I've been knocking about the country for the last five years sleeping out in all weathers and do you think a little damp is going to hurt me? Pooh! What do you take me for? Don't you bother your head about it any more, old man; I'll fix up the lumber-room for myself, all right; and all you've got to do is to let me know when the sister-in-law business is coming on, and I'll shift out of my room in time for the missis to get it ready for her. Here, have you got a bob on you? I'll go out and get some beer. A drop'll do you good.'
