Part 34 (2/2)

”Course I 'ave--I mean, it's all as clear as clear can be. It's only that Sue 'ave more money than she told me 'bout, and that she's a-tryin'

to give me my 'eart's desire.”

”Your 'eart's desire, Giles?”

”Yus--her an' me 'ave always 'ad our dream; and dear Sue--she's a-makin'

it come to pa.s.s, that's all. It's as plain as plain can be. She's a-gone to the country.”

”To the country? Oh no, Giles; I don't think so. Wottever 'ud take her to the country at this time o' year?”

”It's there she be,” said Giles. ”She knew as I wanted dreadful to 'ear wot it were like, an' she 'ave gone. Oh Connie, you went to the country; but she didn't guess that. She ha' gone--dear Sue 'ave--to find out all for herself; an' she thought it 'ud be a rare bit of a s'prise for me. I must make the most of it w'en I see her, and ax her about the flowers and everything. She's sartin to be back to-day. Maybe, too, she could get work at plain sewin' in the country; an' she an' me could live in a little cottage, an' see the sun in the sky, and 'ear the birds a singin'. It's a'most like 'eaven to think of the country--ain't it, Connie?”

”Yus,” said Connie, ”the country's beautiful; but wicked people come out o' Lunnon to it, an' then it's sad. An' there's no flowers a-growin' in the fields and 'edges in the winter, Giles--an' there's no birds a-singin'.”

”Oh! but that 'ull come back,” said Giles. ”You can eat yer breakfast now, Connie, an' then arter that we'll talk more about the country. You _ain't_ goin' to work to-day--be you, Connie?”

”Oh no,” said Connie; ”I ha' lost that place, an' I dunno w'ere to find another. But there's no hurry,” she added, ”and I like best now to be along o' you.”

Connie then ate her breakfast, and Giles lay with his eyes closed and a smile of contentment on his face.

In the course of the morning there came an unlooked-for visitor.

A funny-looking, red-haired boy entered the room. Seeing Giles asleep, he held up his finger warningly to Connie, and stealing on tiptoe until he got opposite to her, he sat down on the floor.

”Wull, an' wottever do yer want?” asked Connie.

”Hus.h.!.+” said the red-haired boy.

He pointed to Giles. This action on the part of a total stranger seemed so absurd to Connie that she burst out laughing. The red-haired boy never smiled. He continued to fix his round, light-blue eyes on her face with imperturbable gravity.

”Wull,” he exclaimed under his breath, ”ef she ain't more of a Cinderella than t' other! Oh, wouldn't the Prince give _her_ the gla.s.s slipper! Poor, poor Cinderella at 'ome! _you've_ no chance now. Ain't she jest lovely! I call her hangelic! My word! I could stare at that 'ere beauteous face for hiver.”

As these thoughts crept up to the fertile brain of Pickles his lips moved and he nodded his head, so that Connie really began to think he was bewitched.

”Wottever do you want?” she whispered; and, fortunately for them both, at that juncture Giles stirred and opened his eyes.

”That's right!” cried Pickles. ”Now I can let off the safety-valve!”

He gave a sigh of relief.

”Whoever's he?” asked Giles, looking from the red-faced boy to Connie.

But before she had time to reply, Pickles sprang to his feet, made a somersault up and down the room, then stood with his arms akimbo just in front of Giles.

”I'm glad as you hintroduced the word 'he,' young un; hotherwise, from the looks of yer both, you seems to liken me to a monster. Yer want to know who's _he_? He's a boy--a full-grown human boy--something like yerself, only not so flabby by a long chalk.”

”But wot did you want? and wot's yer name, boy?” said Connie, who could not help laughing again.

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