nterest. She began
herself to watch for Posy, as her mother described her; and whenever
the form of a grown-up girl darkened the doorway, she held her breath
to listen if Mrs Blossom called her by that pet name. Mr George also
was very good to Meg in his bluff way, and bought her a pair of nearly
new shoes with his first week's wages, over and above the threepence a
day which he paid her. With Mrs Blossom she held many a conversation
about the lost girl, who had grown up wicked, and was therefore worse
than dead; and before long Mr George observed that Meg had done her a
world of good.

Christmas Day was a great treat to Meg; for though Mr George went down
into the country to see his old father, Mrs Blossom invited her and the
children to come to dinner, and to stay with her till it was the little
ones' bedtime. When they sat round the fire in the afternoon she told
them wonderful stories about the country--of its fields, and gardens,
and lanes.

'I like gardens,' said Robin, 'but I don't like lanes.'

'Why don't you like lanes?' asked Mrs Blossom.

'I know lots of lanes,' he answered. 'There's Rosemary Lane, and it's
not nice, nor none of 'em. They ain't nice like Temple Gardens.'

'Rosemary Lane!' repeated Mrs Blossom. 'Why, the lanes in the country
are nothing like the lanes in London. They're beautiful roads, with
tall trees growing all along 'em, and meeting one another overhead; and
there are roses and honeysuckles all about the hedges, and birds
singing, and the sun shining. Only you don't know anything about
roses, and honeysuckles, and birds.'

'Are there any angels there?' asked Robin, fastening his glistening
eyes upon her intently.

'Well, no,' said Mrs Blossom, 'not as I know of.'

'Is the devil in the country?' pursued Robin.

'Yes,' answered Mrs Blossom, 'I suppose he's there pretty much the same
as here. Folks can be wicked anywhere, or else my Posy wouldn't have
grown up bad.'

Robin asked no more questions, and Mrs Blossom was glad to talk of
something else. It was a very happy day altogether, but it came too
quickly to an end. Meg wrapped up her children well before turning out
into the cold streets, and Mrs Blossom gave them a farewell kiss each,
with two to Meg because she was such a comfort to her.

When they reached their own attic they heard Kitty call to them, and
Meg opened her door. She was sitting without any fire, stitching away
as for her life at a coarse striped