adge went out.

She felt very lonely and sad as she wandered through the crowded, busy
streets, and gazed into the faces of the passers-by, all were so
completely wrapped up in their own concerns. None knew her history; none
would care to know it. What did it matter to any one of that moving
throng if she and Raymond died?

Almost unconsciously she bent her steps in the direction of the
colour-shop. One hurried glance she cast at the window, and then turned
away with a sickening heart.

Raymond's picture was still there.

She went home, and ascended the long flight of stairs with a slow,
hesitating step. For a moment she paused at the door of their own room;
she heard a groan within, and hastily went in. Her first glance was
directed to the easel in the window; but Raymond was not there. Another
look discovered him lying on the floor with his head pressed against the
ground.

"Raymond, Raymond!" she cried as she threw herself down by him. "Dear
Raymond, what is the matter?"

[Illustration: THE COLOUR-SHOP WINDOW.]

"O Madge, my head, my head! I could not bear it any longer."

He raised it for a moment, and Madge caught a sight of his fevered
cheeks and heavy tired eyes. She thought for an instant what was best to
be done, then ran down-stairs to call their landlady. Now, Mrs. Smiley
was in the midst of her cooking operations, and as she bent over her
large saucepan, she did not like being interrupted by the sudden
appearance of one of her top lodgers.

"What do you want? Don't you see I'm busy?" she said roughly, as she
turned a very red face round from the fire to Madge.

But Madge, in her terror for Raymond, gained courage. "If you please,
ma'am, do come and see Raymond; he is so ill, and I don't know what to
do."

"And who's to take this saucepan off, I should like to know, or baste
the meat? Do you think I'm to be at the beck and call of top-flight
lodgers, who only pay five shillings a-week, and that not regular. I can
tell you then that you're in the wrong box, young woman, so you'd best
be off."

[Illustration: AN UNGRACIOUS LANDLADY.]

Madge turned to go, but still stood irresolute, and Mrs. Smiley, looking
round to enforce her injunction, caught a sight of her wistful,
terrified face. The little girl went away as directed; but as soon as
she was gone, Mrs. Smiley opened the door of the back-kitchen, and
called out, "Here, you Polly, come up here, and keep an eye on this
dinner. Now keep bastin