With trembling fingers Christian lifted her skirt and produced the little bag which contained her precious savings. There were still seven pounds ten shillings in the bag, for she had given away the last half-crown of her first ten shillings to Judith in order to settle with the irate cabman. It was in reality only a one-and-sixpenny ride, but Judith, as she pocketed the shilling, assured Christian that it cost half-a-crown and was cheap at that. Christian knew too little about the ways of the poor to make any remark, but she did feel certain that her money would not go far if it was required at so rapid a rate.

"Here," she said, opening her bag and producing half-a-sovereign; "I ought to get a lot of change out of that."

"So yer will," said Judith, snatching it from her; "and I'll bring in all sorts of things. What do you think we'll want, Rosy? You'd best make a list."

"Oh! I wish I could go with you," said Rose, whose eyes glistened at the sight of the gold.

"But you can't," said Christian, "I should die if I were left alone in this awful, awful place."

"Awful, is it?" said Judith. "My word, you be hard to please! I 'ates the ways of your haristocrats, always with their noses in the air, sniffing at everything, pleased at nothing. The sight of trouble I had to get this sweet little room! And I'm sure it's as pretty a place as can be found. And if that aint a nice, clean bed for the two of yer to sleep in, I don't know where you'll find a better. And there's a fireplace and a table. And oh, my word! here's a cupboard in the wall. What more could the most particular desire? And here's a chest of drawers. Jolly, I call it! And two chairs—one for me, and one atween the two of you. If this room aint spry and cozy, the only thing I can say is that I hope you'll never find yourself worse lodged. Now then, Rosy, tell us what you want."

Rosy began to count on her fingers. She had arranged everything beforehand in her own acute little mind. She knew exactly the food they would require, the matches and the chips of wood for lighting the fire and the coal to fill the grate. She ordered matches and wood and coal now, also red herrings, a little loaf of the best fresh bread, some butter, some tea, sugar and milk.

"You must see about the coal the first thing," said Rosy; "we can't do any cooking until it has come. And, Judith, we must have a saucepan and a kettle and a little frying-pan, and some cups and saucers, and spoons and knives, and a pinch of salt, and wood to light the fire, and half a dozen eggs. Can you remember all those things?"

"That I can," said Judith; "but if you think there will be much change out of ten shillings you're uncommonly mistaken."

"But there ought to be," said Rose, her cheeks growing crimson. "Mother 'ud get all them things and have summat to spare out of five shillings. Look you, Judith, there aint to be any larks with Miss Christian's money. You're to bring back five shillings change, or I'll go out and buy the things myself, whether I'm caught or not."

The smirky, impudent look left Judith's face.

"We needn't stay here at all," continued Rosy. "Miss Christian might so happen to get tired of this here joke. She might so happen to want to go back to her own people, and we will go back, both of us, even if they are angry, if you play any pranks. Now you understand."

Judith nodded. "It's a nice opinion you have of me, Rose Latimer," she said. "What pranks would a poor girl like me be up to? You needn't fret about me and my morals, Rose Latimer, for I'm as straight as a die, I can tell yer."

She ran downstairs, utterly regardless of the dirty walls and the broken stairs. She flew along, leaping over obstacles, and clearing two or three stairs at a time in her headlong flight.

When her steps had died away Rosy looked at Christian. Christian's back was to her; she was standing by the window. She had not removed her hat and jacket. In her heart was a dull weight—the weight of absolute despair. Even Rosy, as she watched Christian and seemed to guess by a sort of instinct what she was feeling, began to find the adventure less adventurous, and even began to see a certain amount of good in the dressmaker's room where she usually sat, cozy and warm, machining long seams and turning out yards and yards of flouncings. Yes, even the dressmaker's room was better than this attic, with Christian, as Rosy expressed it, in a sulk.

"Miss Christian," said the little girl.

Christian made no reply. She drew a step or two nearer the window, and stared out with the most forlorn feeling in her heart. The only view she could obtain from the very small dormer-window of the attic was of some of the neighboring roofs, black with smoke and smuts. They were hideous in the extreme. Christian had never before known what real, absolute ugliness meant. She shuddered, and yet, with a certain fascination, drew nearer. A cat, meant by nature to be white, but of a dull uniform gray, stepped gingerly over the roofs towards her. He met a brother cat, and they saluted each other in the customary manner. Christian turned away with a shudder.

"Miss Christian," said Rosy again.

"What is it, Rose?"

"You are miserable," said Rosy, "and you blame me."

"Well, I never thought it would be like this. I never imagined anything so awful. And is it true that as we ran away we—we'd——"

"Nonsense, Miss Christian! I don't believe it's true for a single minute. It's only Judith's way to frighten you, miss."

"But Mrs. Carter said the same."

"Yes, Miss Christian, I know it; but she was put up to it by Judith."

"I thought you said you liked Judith—that you thought her a nice girl."

"I never seed her afore in the light I do to-day, miss, and that's the truth."

"Rose, I'm frightfully miserable."

"Well, I aint too happy," said Rose.

"Can't we get away from here? I'm frightened."

"We might creep out of a night, for certain, but in the daytime they're a-watchin us."

"Who? Who are watching us?" said Christian. She went up to Rose and clasped her hand in an access of terror.

"Well, that Mrs. Carter; and most like there are others in the house, and they all know you have money. I tell you what, Miss Christian, there's only one thing to do."

"What is that? Oh, what? Oh, I am frightened! I never thought I should be so terrified."

"It's a clear case when one ought to be terrified," said Rose, and she sank down on one of the chairs and stared straight in front of her. "Yes," she repeated, "it's clear it means terrifying; there aint a doubt of that."

"What is to be done?" said Christian. "Oh, if mother could see me now! Oh, father, father! Rosy, I'd rather be in the most awful strict-discipline school in the whole world than here."

"You think so because you aint at the school," was Rosy's astute reply. "Now, Miss Christian, let me think; don't speak for a minute. It were I who got you into this, so it must be me to get you out; that's but fair."

"It is—it is; but can you?"

"Let me think, miss. Judith will be back in half an hour. I'll think for a bit and then speak."

To Christian those few minutes seemed like eternity. At last Rosy stood up. She crossed the room, went to the door and examined it.

"There aint never a lock," she said. "That's bad. But we can put the chest of drawers agen' the door to-night, so that no one can come in without us hearing 'em. And if we are really frightened we can push the bed up agen' the chest, and squeeze it in between the door and the wall; then we'll be as snug and safe as any girls could be. Then we must take the first chance that offers to get away; we must. Judith aint what I thought her. We mustn't tell her—not on any account. We must steal away when she aint here. The folks here won't let us go if they think we want to, so we must pretend."

"Pretend?" said Christian, in amazement.

"For sure, miss; there aint no other way. We must pretend we are delighted—you to be free of the school, me to be your companion. We must have a right good time to-night and turn Judith's head with our merriment. We must laugh and sing and pretend to enjoy ourselves. We must have a sort of feast, and we must talk a lot about buying the tambourines; and Judith must see about hiring a proper tambourine-girl's dress for you and another for me. It will mean maybe five shillings more, but that can't be helped. We must catch 'em by guile, Miss Christian—Mrs. Carter and the rest. They must hear me talking to you about the awful prison life you has escaped, and you must say out very loud that you never did enjoy yourself so much before. We must take 'em in. You leave it to me, miss. You follow up when I speak. When I give you a look you will know what I mean. That's it, miss. Then to-morrow we'll creep away. If anybody meets us we'll say we are going out to buy things. We'll leave the cups and saucers and things behind us, and we'll never come back—never. That's what we must do. It's the only way, for I don't believe that we can be locked up for running away. But I do think the folks in this house will keep us from ever getting home again; or, at any rate, from getting home until they have got all the money they can from us."

Rosy spoke with great confidence. Christian felt cheered by her words.

"It will be horribly difficult," said Christian; "and I hate deceiving. I never did deceive anyone yet in my life."

"It's a case of play-acting," said Rose stoutly; "and if you aint been play-acting all your born days, I don't know who has. Haven't you been Joan of Arc one day, and Charlotte Corday another and poor me Marat in his bath, waiting for you to stab me—and William Tell and the characters in the Bible? There aint no fear that you can't act. You've just got to act once more."

"But what?"

"Why, a girl who loves the slums, and dotes on her freedom, and is determined that nothing shall make her a slave. Now you know what to do. Oh, here comes Judith! I'd know Judith's step in a thousand."

As Rosy said the last words she began to hum in a high, excited, staccato voice:

Judith burst into the room. She carried a heap of parcels and a sack full of coal.

"If this aint love!" she said. "If this aint, so to speak, the height of devotion! Now then, look spry, both of you."

"Oh, yes," said Rosy, bursting into a loud and apparently delighted laugh, "you are good. Now we'll have fun. Bustle up, Miss Christian; take off your hat and jacket. See, aint I thoughtful? I brought a little apron for you in my pocket. You slip it on; deary miss, and then you won't spoil your nice things."

"What do it matter if she spoils her things or not?" cried Judith. "She can't go on dressing in that fashion; she'd be nabbed at once. The police would bustle round her just like birds round a strange bird. She'll have to dress like the poor folks. The best thing is to pawn her dress, and get her one of them thick woolen sort like the tambourine-girls wear from the pawn-shop."

"That's the right thought, Miss Christian, aint it?" said Rosy. "And you'll be sure to get a good price for such solid clothes as you wear. I could go out now and pawn them."

"No you don't!" said Judith. "If there's any pawning to be done, I do it. And you needn't think for a moment that your Miss Christian—your fine, guarded young lady, who'd get finely punished by the law of the land were it known what she'd done—would get much for her clothes. It's very, very little she'll get; although, of course, I'll do my best for her."

"Oh, I am so hungry!" said Christian, making a valiant effort to speak naturally.

For one instant she looked towards the window. It was like looking out of prison. Even the roofs, so close at hand, seemed to her at that moment the land of the free. But it was true she had often acted before, and she could and would act for dear life now. So she fell on her knees and began to build up the fire. How badly she did it! Judith roared with laughter, and dropping down by her side, began to give directions. Presently Rosy pulled them both aside and lit the fire herself. She was quite an adept at this sort of thing. For a wonder the chimney did not smoke, and the sight of crackling wood and cheerful blaze brought the first moment of comfort to poor Christian's heart. When the fire was lit the dirty table was laid with the plates and cups and saucers, and pewter spoons, and ugly black-handled knives. Judith thought they were very fine, but Christian, if she had not been acting a part, would have found it impossible to have eaten with them or on them.

But the tea was fairly good, and it was made in the tiny little brown teapot; and the herrings were put on the pan to fry. Mrs. Carter, attracted by the excellent smell, popped her nose in at the door.

"My word!" she said, "here's comfort; here's dainties; here's a real feast. Would a poor neighbor who has scarcely tasted a morsel all day be welcome, or would she be unwelcome? You say the word, miss—welcome or unwelcome—the truth, miss, and nothing but the truth."

Rosy gave Christian an anxious glance. Christian, still forcing herself to continue her play-acting, replied in a hearty tone:

"Of course you are welcome."

"Then do, like a good creature," suddenly exclaimed Judith, who by no means wished the feast to be shared by anyone else, "go and take out those curlers. Oh, I know they are Hinde's, but take 'em out—take 'em out—and come in looking like a decent, civilized 'uman being."

Mrs. Carter hastened to comply, and soon the four, on two chairs, were seated round the board. Rosy shared half of Christian's chair, and Judith and Mrs. Carter, pushing each other violently from time to time, subsided on the other. It cracked under their joint weight. Mrs. Carter said that if they were unlucky enough to break it, the landlord would charge Christian the full price of a new chair.

"He'd do nothing of the sort," said Judith. "Why should he, I should like to know? This one is as old as the hills, and didn't cost more than one and elevenpence when it was new."

She had scarcely uttered the words when crash, crack went the chair, and the two were prostrated on the ground.

They got up amidst peals of laughter. Mrs. Carter assured Christian that the chair cost seven and sixpence, but that she'd make it good with the landlord for half-a-crown if Christian would entrust her with that sum.

"We'll see about it to-morrow," said Rosy. "I think, ma'am, we have all had our meal, and there's a deal for me and this young—person," she glancing at Christian as she spoke—"to see to. We has to begin our trade to-morrow morning. We are poor—very poor."

"Oh, my!" said Mrs. Carter.

She glanced at Judith, who winked back at her.

"Yes, desperate," continued Rosy. "Aint we, Miss Christian?"

"Certainly we're very poor," replied Christian.

"But, all the same," continued Rosy, "we're very happy; aint we, missy?"

"Very," said Christian again. "And we are so thankful to our kind friends who helped us to run away. We are——"

"Nonsense!" interrupted Mrs. Carter. "To think as you like this better nor the palaces you have come from."

"We are very happy, and there is such a thing as drudgery even in a palace," continued Rosy. "And this young—person—she don't call herself a lady any more—was going to a sort of prison school. She prefers liberty, even though liberty aint, so to speak, self-indulgence. We're both happy; aint we, Miss Christian?"

"Very happy," replied Christian.

"And how do you mean to live?" said Mrs. Carter, impressed in spite of herself.

"We thought of going and dancing in the streets. This young person can dance most beautifully."

"Well, I never! You'll make up as Italians, no doubt."

"It's you that has an acute brain, ma'am," said Rosy in a voice full of admiration. "That's what we mean to do—aint it, miss?"

"It is," said Christian.

"And we mean to begin," continued Rose, "to-morrow morning."

"Oh, no, you don't!" said Mrs. Carter. "That would be dangerous."

"Dangerous or not, we are going to risk it," said Rosy.

"Yes, we're going to risk it," said Christian in a stout voice.

"And what I was thinking," continued Rosy—"that is, if it is agreeable to you, Christian—is that every day, while we are out earning our fortunes, we might give Mrs. Carter, say, fourpence a day to keep our fire in and our room tidy, and perhaps to have the kettle boiling for us when we come in at night. If you like, Mrs. Carter, I think Christian and me would make it worth your while for fourpence a day."

"I'm agreeable to that same, if you make it sixpence."

"No, ma'am, we can't possibly do that. Fourpence is too high. If you don't like it, ma'am, say so, and we'll get a woman downstairs to do it for threepence, or maybe twopence."

"Well, I'll do it for fourpence if you throw supper into the bargain."

"Can we throw in supper, Miss Christian?" asked Rosy.

"I think so," said Christian, trying to act the part more forcibly than ever.

"Fourpence and supper, then," said Rose. "But it can't be paid any day that you don't make yourself useful, Mrs. Carter."

"No fear of me," said Mrs. Carter, with a toss of her head.

"And what part shall I have?" said Judith, who was absolutely taken in by Rose's cheerfulness.

"You can come and see us when you like, and when we have made enough money we'll now and then give you a treat; and Mrs. Carter shall come with us. But," added the little girl, emboldened by the effect her words were producing, "we won't have any of the other people of this house. The more you keep us to ourselves, Mrs. Carter, the more you will get. Do you understand?"

"For certain I do, honey; and I must say it's a real sensible plan."

"So we will stay here quietly to-night," said Rosy, "and enjoy ourselves, and to-morrow morning we will go and buy what we want. We'll start our trade about midday. We'll dress as Italians, of course."

"I'd like fine to see you doing it," said Mrs. Carter.

"You mustn't follow us on any account—anyhow, not for a day or two. We'd feel more nervous, like, if we thought you was looking on at us."

"You be a 'cute un," said Mrs. Carter.

"Now then, make yourself scarce, ma'am," said Judith, "for we have a lot to attend to."

Mrs. Carter retired. She was apparently in the height of good-humor. Rose instructed Christian how to wash up the tea-things.

By and by Judith also took her leave.

"For if I'm not back home before four o'clock, folks may suspect and hunt me up, and maybe find you into the bargain," she said to the little girls, and so she left them to themselves.

Yes, at last they were alone. Mrs. Carter had gone out; they heard her heavy tramp as she went downstairs. She was the only other lodger on this floor, and the place was now comparatively quiet.

"If only we could lock the door," said Rosy. "But there, we can't."

"Shall you sleep at all to-night, Rosy? Aren't you terrified?" said Christian.

"It's just this," said Rosy: "I mustn't let out; I must pretend I'm not the least bit frightened."

"I don't suppose you are. You are wonderfully brave."

"Now then, let us settle down and let us plan," said Rose.

They sat close to each other and kept up the fire, and they had no idea of saving their small amount of coal. What did it matter when they meant to go away on the morrow?

Presently day faded. They had forgotten to supply themselves with candles. Rose did not dare to go out. Christian clung to her.

"We'll keep up the fire all night," said Rose. "You'd like another cup of tea, wouldn't you, darling Miss Christian?"

"No," said Christian; "I'm not hungry. Rosy, if I hadn't done it I'd have been nearly at school now."

"Yes, darling."

"And I wouldn't be feeling such an awfully wicked girl."

"You can't help it," said Rosy. "It's the way of life; we are punished when we do wrong."

"Do you think we did very wrong?"

"For certain we did. I knew it all along, but I couldn't hold back from the fun."

"Do you think we are in danger now, Rosy?"

Rose was silent.

"Rosy, do you think anything will happen to us to-night?"

"Miss Christian, you always were brave."

"Yes," replied Christian, "but I never did suppose that I could be in my present surroundings. I am frightened to-night, and I don't pretend I am anything else."

"We will do what we said," answered Rose. "We'll put the chest of drawers against the door, and move the bedstead against the chest of drawers, and that will fill up the space as far as the opposite wall. Then no one can get in. Isn't that a good plan?"

"Let's do it," said Christian; "and let's do it now while Mrs. Carter is out, for if they heard us moving about the room they might try to get in."

"Come along, then, Miss Christian. Let's be quick. We never did a bit of play-acting to equal this before."

"Never," replied Christian; "and," she added under her breath, "I don't think I will ever, as long as I live, want to play-act again."