When Rosy arrived on the following evening she looked very much excited; her eyes were bright, and there was a lot of color in her cheeks. Beside her Christian looked pale and scarcely pretty at all.

The little girl sat down on a stool near the fire in the nursery and warmed her hands, chatted loud and long to nurse, and laughed continually.

"One would think," said nurse after a pause, "that you did not love Miss Christian one little bit. I never saw anyone in such riotous spirits, and I must say it aint becoming."

"Oh, don't I love Christian?" said Rosy. "Don't you go and draw wrong conclusions, great-aunt. I love her better nor anybody else—there!"

"Well, child, that's all right. Here comes Miss Christian. Now listen, Rosy. You are not to stay long; you are to go away in about half-an-hour, for my young lady looks very peaky."

Christian sat by the fire. Nurse gathered up her work and prepared to go into the schoolroom. She knew the children would like to be alone, and she had promised to help Miss Thompson in her constant search after Christian's possessions.

"A more untidy child I never saw," said Miss Thompson when the old woman entered the room. "But there! I do pity her. I think it is perfectly awful the way the poor child is kept in the dark. It is that that worries me."

"Well," said nurse, "there's sense in it too. She won't have time to fret; it will be one sharp blow and then the worst will be over. Miss Christian has got fancies and all kinds of romances about her, and she'd conjure up horrors like anything. Children who conjure up ought to be kept from brooding; that's what I say."

Meanwhile the two girls in the cozy nursery were sitting side by side.

"I have eight sovereigns," began Christian. "I've got another since I saw you last. Mother gave it to me."

"Oh, golloptious!" said Rosy.

"Do you think eight sovereigns will go a long, long way? Do you think they will be enough till we have made our fortunes by being tambourine and dancing girls?" exclaimed Christian.

"To be sure they will!" answered Rosy. "Now, Christian, you listen. I have it planned splendid. You'll have to do it this way, and this alone. My friend that I told you of aint much to look at, but she's clever. My word! I never came across anyone with such brains. I spoke to her last night. She is apprenticed to a dressmaker next door to mother, and she's sick of it."

"But my eight pounds won't support three people," said Christian, speaking hastily, and with a strong dislike to Rosy's friend rising up at once in her heart.

"You needn't fear that," said Rosy. "Judith aint going to have anything to do with us; she couldn't if she wished, for she's apprenticed to a dressmaker, and her mother would be mad if she even thought of such a thing. But what she will do is this. She'll meet us and take us to some nice lodgings, where we can stay all by ourselves for a couple of days. If you say the word to-night, Miss Christian, she'll hire the little room for us. I said you wouldn't mind it being humble, and she said she knew one in a very respectable house—of course nowhere near here—a little room at the top, where there'd be a cozy bed for us. Think of you and me sleeping so warm side by side. And we could have a fire if we wanted it, and we could cook red herrings and make our own tea."

"It would be fun," said Christian, her eyes gleaming. "Children have done that before when they were poor, haven't they? It would be like the old story-books about children who lived in London and nearly starved but came out all right in the end."

"Yes, yes," said Rosy; "but you listen. She'll take the room to-morrow if you say the word, and it will be all ready for us when we get there on Tuesday."

"Oh," said Christian—"Tuesday! But oughtn't we to run away on Monday?"

"No; that won't do at all. I told Judith, and she said you'd be found out. What you must do is this. You must get to the station. You must walk up to the book-stall. You say to that Miss Neil that you want a picture-book——"

"Which I don't," said Christian. "I hate picture-books."

"Well, any sort; it don't matter. Then you watch your chance and mix up with the crowd and come out, and stand outside and wait for me."

"But how will you know what station to go to?"

Rosy laughed. "You'll say that I am very clever when I tell you," she answered. "Do you know that I picked up a letter that your mother had dropped, and it was from that fine school of yours—oh! I wouldn't like to be imprisoned there—and all directions were given. You were to go from Paddington Station; so I'll be there, and so will Judith, and we'll take you away before Miss Neil finds out anything. Don't you see what a splendid plan it is? Your father and mother will be off two hours before you, and they won't be fretted at all. By the time the news reaches them that you are lost, you may be able to write a letter and tell 'em that you are earning your own living in London and doing fine."

Christian's cheeks were now almost as red as Rosy's.

"It does sound too splendid," she said. "I wonder if I'll have strength to do it."

"Why, Miss Christian, what do you mean?"

"Well, you know, Rosy, it isn't good of me; it's downright bad of me."

"Oh, I didn't know," said Rosy, "that we was to think of the virtues. I thought you wasn't a bit that sort of goody-goody kind."

"Nor am I," said Christian, reddening. "But since I saw you I have heard about my grandmother, and she—she was wonderfully good. And she had spirit, too, Rosy—far more spirit than either you or I have. But she never thought of pleasing herself; that was the amazing thing about her."

"Well, no one can call you selfish, Miss Christian."

"But when I run away from the strict-discipline school I do please myself, don't I?" answered Christian.

Rosy had no answer for that; but presently her little face puckered up and she began to cry.

"I was that troubled," she began, bringing out the words through her sobs; "and Judith Ford—I promised her five shillings; so I did. I knew you'd pay it for getting her to hire the room and for going to Paddington with me. And I thought I wouldn't be scolded any more, nor have my finger pricked by the horrid needlework, nor anything of that sort; and now——"

"Well?" said Christian.

"You are backing out of it; I can see that. You aint half nor quarter as anxious about it as you were when last we met."

"You needn't be frightened," said Christian coldly. "I asked you to help me, and I mean to go through with it; but as to its not being painful—I know it will be necessary, but it is horribly painful. I can scarcely bear to look my mother and father in the face."

"Well!" said Rosy, "I could look mother straight enough in the face. I didn't sauce her half as much to-day, for thinking that I'd be away from her and the horrid needlework in less than a week. Oh, I am happy! And we'll get a little monkey and tambourines, and we'll practise like anything in our dear, snug little room; and we'll start walking along the streets and getting pence from the passers-by by the end of next week."

Christian's eyes once again sparkled. The scheme was fascinating. She found herself, as it were, between two positions. At one side was the school, strict—very strict—far away from London, where she would be received and, as it were, locked up in prison for years and years and years; no holidays to look forward to, for holidays were to be spent at school; no friends that she loved to greet her or speak to her. She was slow in making friends, and Rosy was dearer to her than any other girl. Certainly the other prospect was more alluring. It did not occur to her that the small room would be anything but spotlessly clean, with snowy sheets to the bed, and pretty, bright furniture, and a dear little fire in the grate; and she had always longed to taste red herrings. She thought that the food of the poor would be nice as a change—at least for a time. Then there would be the life in the open air, and the other tambourine-girls looking on and envying and wondering. And the monkey should certainly be called Jacko, for there was no other name so sweet for him. And she would love him and teach him no end of tricks, and he would sleep with her at night.

"Yes, Rosy, I will do it," she said. "I am sorry I seemed to hesitate. You can't quite understand everything about me; but I'll do it safe enough."

"That's right," said Rosy. "And now, do you think, Miss Christian, that you could let me have five shillings?"

"What for?" asked Christian.

"Well, it's for this: Judith can't hire us a room unless she pays in advance. She has one now in her mind's eye—a beauty—like a bird's nest, she said—the cosiest spot on earth. She wouldn't like to lose it. She must get it to-morrow, and we'll take possession of it on Tuesday, but we must pay a week in advance."

"I have only got my sovereigns," said Christian. "It will seem rather strange my changing one."

"All right," said Rosy; "only I don't suppose I dare come again. Can't you get it for me anyhow? Great-aunt has always a lot of change, I know."

Christian considered, and then she went into the schoolroom. Her purse containing her treasure was in her own private desk, and that desk stood on a little round table near one of the windows. It was always kept locked, and Christian kept the key fastened on to her watch-chain. She unlocked the desk now and took out the purse. The night before she had deposited the new sovereign with its seven companions. She looked sadly at her little store. It seemed a pity to break it. But, after all, Rosy's request was reasonable; Judith Ford could not be expected to get a room for them without money.

Both nurse and Miss Thompson were in the room, and they looked attentively at Christian as she entered.

"Well, Miss Christian," said nurse, "has Rosy made herself scarce? Quite time for her to do it, little puss!"

"Yes, Christian, you really must go to bed now," said Miss Thompson.

Christian colored. "I want to change this," she said, and she laid the sovereign on the table.

"Whatever for, my pet?" said nurse.

"It is for Rosy; I want——"

"No; nothing of the kind," said nurse—"nothing of the kind! I'm not going to have my great-niece taking presents from you, Miss Christian; and money, too, forsooth! Just like the brass of that little thing! But I'll soon——"

"Nursey, nursey," cried Christian, almost in tears, "you don't know; you can't understand. Please—please let me have some change; I want to give Rosy five shillings. It isn't as a present; it is for something she is to do for me."

"Of course you can have the change, Christian," said Miss Thompson; and she went to her desk, and presently laid half a sovereign and four half-crowns on the table. She took up the sovereign, and Christian ran into the nursery with the money.

"Here it is," she said, thrusting two half-crowns into Rosy's hands; "and I had great work to get it. Nursey thought I wanted to give you a present."

"I'll have something to say to my great-aunt if she doesn't change her manners," was Rosy's response. "Thank you, Miss Christian; you couldn't, I suppose, let me have another half-crown as well?"

"What for?" said Christian, who felt that her money was already beginning to melt with wonderful rapidity.

"Well, you see, miss, it is to pay for Judith's time, and for me and her to go to Paddington in time to meet you. This sort of thing can't be done without a little outlay, Miss Christian. Afterwards, when we are settled down, we'll be as economical as you like."

"There, take it," said Christian.

She thrust the money into Rosy's hand and dashed from the room. She did not even wait to bid her friend good-night; she felt at that moment that she almost disliked her.