Part 13 (1/2)

The next day was Sunday, and if it had not been for Big Ben the two poor children would have had a most miserable time, for they were shut up in Mrs. Warren's room from morning till night. In vain they begged to be allowed to go out. Mrs. Warren said ”No,” and in so emphatic a manner that they did not dare to ask her twice.

Agnes did not come at all to the house on Sunday, and Connie and Ronald finally curled themselves up in the deep window-ledge, and Connie talked and told Ronald all about her past life. In particular she told him about Big Ben, and little Giles, and the wonderful, most wonderful ”Woice.” After that the children had a sort of play together, in which Ronald proved himself to be a most imaginative little person, for he invented many fresh stories with regard to Big Ben, a.s.suring Connie that he was much more than a voice. He would not be at all surprised, he said if Big Ben was not a great angel who came straight down from heaven every hour to comfort the sorrowful people in Westminster. Ronald thought it extremely likely that this wonderful angel knew his own mother, and was on this special Sunday telling him to be a brave boy and keep up his heart, for most certainly he would be safe back with his father before another Sunday came.

”That's what he says,” continued Ronald, ”and that's what'll happen, you'll see, Connie. And when darling father comes here you shall come away too, for I won't leave you alone with Mammy Warren. She's not a real kind person, is she, Connie?”

”Don't ax me,” said Connie. Ronald looked up into her face.

”You can't tell a lie at all well,” he said. ”You're trying to make me think that Mammy Warren's nice, but you're not doing it well, for I don't believe you.”

Then the big clock once again tolled the hour, and Ronald laughed with glee.

”There's no doubt about it now,” he said. ”Father _is_ coming, and very, very soon. Oh I am glad, and happy!”

During that Sunday the children had very little food, for Mrs. Warren seemed all of a sudden to have changed her tactics. Whether it was the fact that she was really angry at Mrs. Cricket's having fed the boy on chicken and mutton-chops, no one could tell; but all he did have on that eventful Sunday was weak tea, stale bread and b.u.t.ter, and a very little jam.

Towards evening the two poor little creatures were really hungry.

By-and-by they clasped each other round the neck, and fell asleep in each other's arms. It was in this condition--curled up near the fire--that Mrs. Warren found them when she got home.

CHAPTER XI.

A NEW DEPARTURE.

With Monday morning, however, all things seemed to have altered. Mrs.

Warren was up spry and early. She called Connie to come and help her, but she desired Ronald to lie in bed.

”It's a nasty day,” she said; ”there's sleet falling. We'll go out, of course, for fresh air is good for children, but we must none of us wear our best clothes.”

”What do yer mean by that?” said Connie.

”Don't you go and ax me wot I mean; just do wot I tells yer. No dark-blue dress for yer to-day, missy. I ha' got a old gownd as 'ull fit yer fine.”

Poor Connie trembled. Mrs. Warren went into her bedroom.

”'Ere, now,” she said, ”you put it on.”

The old gown was certainly not at all nice. Its color was quite indescribable. It was very ragged and torn, too, round the bottom of the skirt. It dragged down in front so as almost to trip poor Connie when she tried to walk, and was several inches too short in the back.

Mrs. Warren desired Connie to take off her dainty shoes and stockings, and gave her some stockings with holes in them, and some very disreputable shoes down at the heel. She made her pin across her chest a little old shawl of an ugly pale pattern, and instead of allowing her to wear her hair in a golden fleece down her back, she plaited it, and tied it into a little bunch at the back of her head. She then put an old bonnet on the child's head--a bonnet which must have once belonged to quite an elderly woman--and tied it with strings in front. Connie felt terribly ashamed of herself.

”I'm all in rags,” she said, ”jest as though I wor a beggar maid.”

”I've a fancy that yer shall wear these 'ere clothes to-day,” said Mrs.

Warren. ”Yer've been a fine lydy too long; yer'll be a beggar maid to-day. W'en I tell yer wot to do in the street, yer'll do it. You can sing, I take it. Now then, you learn the words.”

Mrs. Warren planted down before Connie the well-known words of ”Home, Sweet Home.”

”I know this without learning it,” said the girl.

”An' you 'as a good woice, I take it.”