a misunderstanding, but Totty was not altogether
in earnest, and had good sense enough to refrain from unworthy
suggestions on such a subject. Ackroyd had sometimes half suspected
that she quarrelled on trivial grounds of set purpose, for he was well
aware of her native sincerity and honest plainness of dealing.

Her bad news was unfortunately true enough. For half a year Mr. Boddy
had been breaking up; the process began very suddenly, and was all the
harder to bear. Under any circumstances he could not have held his own
in the battle with society much longer--the battle for the day's food
of which society does its best to rob each individual--and the
catastrophe in the home of the girls who were dear to him as though
they had been his own children, sounded the note of retreat. Thyrza was
not so much to him as Lydia, but still was very much, and the sorrow
which darkened Lydia's life was to him the beginning of the end of all
things.

Yes, he hid the state of things very skilfully from Lydia's eyes. He
told her that he was working, when he had no work to do; he laughed at
her questions as to whether he had comfortable meals, when he had had
no meal at all. The Bowers never invited him to come to the parlour now
and sit at their table; they were so indifferent about him, so long as
he paid his rent, that for a long time they did not know how hard beset
he was. Lydia had ventured to ask him if he would change his lodgings,
provided she found him a room in a house where she could visit him
without unpleasantness; but the old man avoided her request. If he
moved, all sorts of things would become known to Lydia which at present
he was able to conceal.

One thing he could not hide. His hand had become so unsteady that the
bow would no longer strike true notes from the violin; so he ceased to
play to the girl when she came. Lydia did not press him, thinking that
probably it was too painful for him to revive memories of the old days.
When hardships thickened, he would have sold the instrument, in spite
of every pang, but for the certainty that Lydia would miss it from his
room.

He lived more and more to himself. Till the beginning of November he
was able just to keep body and soul together after paying his rent,
then the rent was no longer forthcoming. Not one article remained to
him for which he could obtain money, not one save the violin. He durst
not sell it. In spite of everything, he clung to a vague hope that
someon