in yourdoin' anythin' else, for we can soon send a bit o' a letter to Aunt JaneDawson, and then the fat's in the fire."
"Oh, oh!" said Annie, "I--" She roused herself; she pushed back her hat;she pressed her hot hand to her hot cheek. "Do you think we might opena little bit of the window?" she said.
Tilda immediately complied.
"There now," she said; "that's better. Didn't I say as you was 'ot?--and no wonder. You tell Martha and me, and we'll do wot we can foryer."
"I don't know what you mean about a cheque," said Annie; "that is allnonsense--I mean--I am not going away on that account."
"Oh no, miss," said Tilda, winking at Martha. "Who hever said you was?"
"But you are right," continued Annie; "I am going to town for a day ortwo, just--just--on a little business of my own."
"Ain't we smart?" said Tilda, winking again at Martha. Martha bentforward, and once more whispered in her companion's ear.
"Look 'ere," said Tilda, "when all's said and done, you're a gel, sameas we two are gels, and although you is 'igh up in the social scale, andwe, so to speak, low down, we are made with the same feelin's, and soulsand bodies, and all the rest o' it; and it ain't for Martha and me to be'ard on yer, miss; we 'ud much more like to 'elp yer, miss. We won'tget to Lunnon until close on twelve--Lor' bless yer! that ain't a nicetime for a young lady to come all alone to the metropolis; 'tain't anice time at all--but my brother Sam 'ull meet Martha and me, and takeus straight off to Islington, where we lives; and there 'ull be a bit o''ot supper, and our beds all warm and cosy; and wot I say is this: whymightn't you come along with us too, and share our 'ot supper and theescort of my brother Sam, and 'ave a shakedown at Islington for thenight? There's no safer way to 'ide, miss--if it's 'idin' yer mean; fornone o' those grand folks as you belong to will look for yer outIslington way."
Annie considered this offer for some little time, and finally said in agrateful tone that she did not think that she could do better thanaccept it; whereupon the girls whispered and giggled a good dealtogether and left poor Annie more or less to her own reflections.
It was twenty minutes to twelve when the great express entered the hugeLondon terminus which was its destination; and Annie was indeed glad,when she found herself in the whirl of the great Paddington Station, tohave Tilda's arm to lean on, and to be accompanied at the other side byMartha Jones.
Presently a large young man with a shock of red hair and a freckled facerushed up to the girls, clapped Tilda loudly on the shoulder, and noddedin a most familiar manner to Martha. At sight of Annie, however, hefell back breathless with astonishment and open-eyed admiration; forperhaps in all her life poor little Annie had never looked moreabsolutely beautiful than she did now. Her cheeks were slightly crimsonwith the first touch of fever. Her blue eyes were at once dark andbright, and her coral-red lips might have resembled a cherry, so richwas their colour. There was a fragility at the same time about the slimyoung girl, a sort of delicate refinement, which her pretty dress andgolden hair accentuated, so that, compared to Tilda, who was loud andcoarse and uncommonly like Sam himself, and Martha, who was a plain,dumpy girl with a cast in one eye, the looked like a being from asuperior sphere.
Sam had dreamed of creatures like Annie Brooke. He had believed that itwas possible for some girls to look like that, but he had never beenclose to one of these adorable creatures before in the whole course ofhis life. His silly head swam; his round eyes became rounder than everwith admiration, and even his loud voice became hushed.
"Who be she?" he said, plucking at Tilda's sleeve, and his own great,rough voice shaking.
"A friend o' our'n," said Tilda, who, not being so susceptible, felt herhead very tightly screwed on her shoulders, and was not going to giveherself away on Annie's account. "A friend o' our'n," she continued, "agel whose acquaintance we made in the country. She's a-comin' along'ome with Martha and me; so you look after our trunks, Sam, and we'll goon to the underground as quick as possible. Don't stare yer eyes out,Sam, for goodness' sake! She won't bolt, beauty though she be."
"Oh! I can't go with you; I really can't," said Annie. "There must bea hotel close to this, and I have plenty, plenty of money. Perhapsthis--this--gentleman would take me to the hotel."
She looked appealingly at Sam, who would have died for her there andthen.
"I wull--if yer wish, miss," he stammered.
"Nothing of the kind," said Tilda, who, having secured Annie, had nointention of letting her go. A girl with plenty of money who wasrunning away was a treasure not to be found every day in the week."You'll come with us, miss, or that letter 'ull be writ to Mrs Dawsonafore we goes to bed to-night."
"Oh yes," said Sam, wondering more and more what could have happened."We'll take the greatest care o' yer, miss."
"Her name's Annie; you needn't `miss' her," said Tilda, turning sharplyto her brother. "Now then, do get our bits o' duds, and be quick, can'tyou?"
The bewildered young man did see to his sister's and friend's luggage.He had already secured Annie's bag, and he held it reverently, feelingcertain that it belonged to one of a superior class. Why, the little,neat bag alone was something to reverence.
By-and-by the whole party found themselves in a third-class compartmenton their way to Islington, which place they in course of time reached,Sam indulging in a cab for Annie's sake, because he saw that she was fartoo tired to walk the long mile which separated Tilda Freeman's homefrom the railway station.
This humble domicile was soon reached, and the whole party went indoors.A frowsy-looking woman with red hair like Tilda's and Sam's stoodakimbo in the passage, awaiting the arrival of her son and daughter andvisitor.
"How late you be!" she cried. "But there's yer supper in the kitchen,and yer beds ready.--How do, Martha Jones? It's a dish o' tripe an'onions I 'as ready for yer. I know you're partial to that sort o' food.Why, a' mercy! who on earth is this!"
"A friend o' mine," said Tilda. "Her name's Annie. She can sleep alongo' me to-night, mother."
"Oh no," said Annie. "I must have a bed to myself."
"Then you can't, my beauty," said Mrs Freeman, "for there ain't one foryer. Ef yer thinks Tilda good enough to wisit uninvited in the dead o'night you must be satisfied with half her bed. And now I'm off to mine,for I 'ave to char early to-morrow mornin' at Pearson's house over theway."
Mrs Freeman disappeared, and the girls, accompanied by Sam, went intothe kitchen. Annie, try as she would, could not touch the coarsesupper; but Tilda, Martha, and even Sam enjoyed it mightily.
Annie had removed her hat, and her hair looked like purest gold underthe flaring gas-jet, which cast a garish light over the place. Sam atein abundance, and cast adoring eyes at Annie. Annie's head ached; herthroat ached; she shivered; but nevertheless, dimly and in a queer sortof fashion, it was borne in upon her that Sam would be her true friend,and that the girls would not. She was in an evil plight, but she wasalready feeling too ill to care very much what happened to her.Nevertheless, she had still a sufficient amount of self-control toreturn Sam's gaze, and once she gave him a timid smile.
By-and-by the two girls went into the scullery to wash the plates anddishes, for great would have been Mrs Freeman's wrath if she had foundthem dirty in the morning; and Sam and Annie were alone.
Annie immediately seized the opportunity.
"Sam," she said, "I am in great trouble."
"I be that sorry," murmured Sam.
"I know you have a kind heart, Sam."
"For you, miss," he managed to stammer.
"And you are strong," continued Annie.
"I'd knock any chap down as wanted to injure a 'air o' yer 'ead, miss.It's that beautiful, yer 'air is miss, like--like the sunshine when wespends a day in the country."
"Do you think you would really help me, Sam?" said Annie.
"You has but to ask, miss," said the red-haired giant, placing a hugehand over his heart.
"I don't want your sister and her friend to know."
> "Oh, lawks, miss! you'll turn my 'ead entirely. A secret atween you andme! Well, I'm that obligated I don't know 'ow to speak."
"I want to get away from here to-morrow morning," said Annie. "I wantto go down to the docks,