Part 34 (1/2)

Connie selected from its depths a pair of thin and very fine linen sheets. These she aired by the fire, and laid them over the mattress when they were quite warm. There was a blanket, white and light and very warm, which was also placed over the linen sheets; and a down pillow was found which Connie covered with a frilled pillow-case; and finally she took out the most precious thing of all--a large crimson and gold shawl, made of fine, fine silk, which her mother used to wear, and which Connie dimly remembered as thinking too beautiful for this world. But nothing was too beautiful for little Giles; and the couch with its crimson covering was all ready for him when Harris reappeared, bearing the boy in his arms.

”I kivered him up with his own blanket,” he said, turning to Connie.

”Ain't that sofy comfor'ble to look at? You lie on the sofa, sonny, an'

then yer'll know wot it be to be well tended.”

Little Giles was placed there, and Connie prepared a hot bottle to put to his feet, while Harris returned to the empty room to fetch away the medicine and get the things which Dr. Deane had ordered. He left a message, too, with Mrs. Nelson, telling her what had become of the boy, and asking Dr. Deane to call at his house in the future.

”You be a good man,” said Mrs. Nelson in a tone of great admiration. ”My word, now! and ain't it lucky for the kid? You be a man o' money, Mr.

Harris--he'll want for nothing with you.”

”He'll want for nothing no more to the longest day he lives,” answered Harris.

”Ah, sir,” said Mrs. Nelson, ”he--he won't live long; he'll want for nothing any more, sir, in the Paradise of G.o.d.”

”Shut up!” said Harris roughly. ”Ye're all with yer grumblin's and moans jest like other women.”

”And what message am I to give to Sue--poor girl--when she comes 'ome?”

called Mrs. Nelson after him.

But Harris made no reply to this; only his steps rang out hard and firm and cruel on the frosty ground.

CHAPTER XXII.

NEWS OF SUE.

The next morning, when Connie awoke, she remembered all the dreadful things that had happened. She was home again. That strange, mysterious man, Simeon Stylites, had let her go. How awful would have been her fate but for him!

”He were a wery kind man,” thought Connie. ”And now I must try to forget him. I must never mention his name, nor think of him no more for ever.

That's the way I can serve him best--pore Mr. Simeon! He had a very genteel face, and w'en he spoke about his little sister it were real touching. But I mustn't think of him, for, ef I do, some day I might let his name slip, an' that 'ud do him a hurt.”

Connie's thoughts, therefore, quickly left Simeon Stylites, Agnes Coppenger, Freckles, Nutmeg, and Corkscrew, and returned to the exciting fact that Sue was now missing, and that Giles was under her own father's roof.

She sprang out of bed, and quickly dressing herself, entered the general sitting-room. She was surprised to find that her father had taken his breakfast and had gone; that Giles was sitting up, looking very pretty, with his little head against the white pillow, and the crimson and gold shawl covering his couch.

”Why, Connie,” he said, the minute he saw her, ”wot a silly chap I wor yesterday! It's all as plain now as plain can be--I know everything now.”

”Wottever do you mean?” said Connie. ”But don't talk too much, Giles, till I ha' got yer yer breakfast.”

”Bless yer!” said Giles, with a weak laugh, ”I ha' had my breakfast an hour and a half ago--yer father guv it to me. He be a wery kind man.”

”My father guv you your breakfast?” said Connie.

She felt that wonders would never cease. Never before had Harris been known to think of any one but himself.

”Set down by me, Connie; you can't do naught for your breakfast until the kettle boils. I'll tell yer now w'ere Sue is.”

”Where?” asked Connie. ”Oh Giles! have yer heard of her?”