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.  Very puzzling all this.  How on earth came it that Mrs. Peckover kept the child so long, and didn’t send her to the workhouse?  If I’m to believe her, she took a motherly kindness for the poor brat.  But that won’t exactly go down with J. J. Snowdon; he’s seen a bit too much in his knocking about the world, Still, what if I’m making a mistake about the old woman?  There are some people do things of that sort; upon my soul, I’ve known people be kind even to me, without a chance of being paid back!  You may think you know a man or a woman, and then all at once they’ll go and do something you’d have taken your davy couldn’t possibly happen.  I’d have sworn she was nothing but a skinflint and a lying old witch.  And so she maybe; the chances are there’s some game going on that I can’t see through.  Make inquiries?  Why, so I have done, as far as I know how.  I’ve only been able to hit on one person who knows anything about the matter, and he tells me it’s true enough the girl was taken away about three years ago, but he’s no idea where she went to.  Surely the old man must be dead b now, though he was tough.  Well, the fact of the matter is, I’ve got a good berth, and I’m a precious sight too lazy to go on the private detective job.  Here’s this girl Clem, the finest bit of flesh I’ve seen for a long time; I’ve more than half a mind to see if she won’t be fool enough to marry me.  I’m not a bad-looking fellow, that’s the truth, and she may have taken a real liking to me.  Seems to me that I should have come in for a Comfortable thing in my old age; if I haven’t a daughter to provide for my needs, at all events I shall have a wife who can be persuaded into doing so.  When the old woman gets out of the way I must have a little quiet talk with Clem.’