e small
after-deck and steered. In the cabin Mrs. Mortimer snatched what repose
was possible on a narrow side-locker to a person of her proportions; and
on the cabin floor at her feet, in a nest of theatrical costumes, the
two children slept dreamlessly, tired out, locked in each others arms.

CHAPTER IX.

FREEDOM.

"_O, a bargeman's is the life for me,
Though there's nothin' to be seen but scener-ee!_"--OLD SONG.

A pale shaft of daylight slanted through the cabin doorway. It touched
Tilda's eyelids, and she opened them at once, stared, and relaxed her
embrace.

"Awake?" asked Mrs. Mortimer's voice from the shadow above the locker.
"Well, I'm glad of that, because I want to get to the stove. Sardines,"
said Mrs. Mortimer, "you can take out with a fork; but, packed as we
are, when one moves the rest must follow suit. Is the boy stirring
too?"

"No," answered Tilda, peering down on him. But as she slipped her arm
from under his neck, he came out of dreamland with a quick sob and a
shudder very pitiful to hear and to feel. "Hush!" she whispered,
catching at his hand and holding it firmly. "It's _me_--Tilda; an' you
won't go back there never no more."

"I--I thought--" said he, and so with an easier sob lay still.

"O' course you did," Tilda soothed him. "But what's 'appened to the
boat, ma'am?"

"We are at anchor. If you want to know why, you had best crawl out and
ask Mr. Bossom. He gave the order, and Stanislas has gone ashore to buy
provisions. Marketing," said Mrs. Mortimer, "is not my husband's strong
point, but we'll hope for the best."

The cabin doorway was low as well as narrow. Looking through it, Tilda
now discerned in the gathering daylight the lower half of Sam Bossom's
person. He sat with his legs dangling over the break of the stairway,
and as the children crawled forth they perceived that he was busy with a
small notebook.

"Why are we stoppin' here?" demanded Tilda, with a glance about her.

The boat lay moored against the bank opposite the towpath, where old
Jubilee stood with his face deep in a nosebag. He stood almost directly
against the rising sun, the effect of which was to edge his outline with
gold, while his flank presented the most delicate of lilac shadows.
Beyond him stretched a level country intersected with low hedges, all
a-dazzle under the morning beams. To the left the land sloped gently
upward to a ridge crowned, a mile away, by a straggling line of