he fixed these directions in
her mind.

"It do seem," she said graciously while she dried the boy's face with
the skirt of her frock, "like as if you 'd dropped 'ere from 'eaven.
What we should a-done without you, I can't think."

"You'd best thank that dog o' your'n." The young man bent to cast off
his rope. "He broke away from me once, an' I made sure I'd lost 'im.
But by-an'-by back he came like a mad thing, an' no need to tell me you
was inside there. He was neither to hold nor to bind, an' I do believe
if he hadn't thought o' the manhole he'd 'a-broke the wall down, or elst
his 'eart."

"When I tell you 'e got me in as well as out--But, good sake, I musn'
stand 'ere talkin'! Gimme my crutch, an' shove us across, that's a dear
man."

She pushed the boy before her on to the barge. 'Dolph sprang on board
at their heels, and the young coalheaver thrust the bows across with his
pole. The canal measured but seventeen or eighteen feet from brink to
brink, and consequently the boat, which was seventy feet long at least,
fell across at a long angle. The garden on the opposite shore was
unfenced, or rather, its rotten palings had collapsed with time and the
pressure of a rank growth of elder bushes.

"So long, an' th' Lord bless yer!"

Tilda took the boy's hand and jumped ashore.

"Same to you, an' wishin' you luck!" responded the young coalheaver
cheerfully. "Look 'ere," he added, "if you get in trouble along o'
this, I'm willin' to stand in for my share. Sam Bossom's my name--
employ of Hucks, Canal End Basin. If they lag you for this, you just
refer 'em to Sam Bossom, employ of Hucks--everyone knows Hucks; an' I'll
tell 'em--well, darned if I know what I'll tell 'em, unless that we was
all under the influence o' drink."

"You're a white man," responded Tilda, "though you don't look it; but
there ain't goin' to be no trouble, not if I can 'elp. If anyone arsks
questions, you han't seen us, mind."

"Fur nor feather of ye," he repeated. He watched the pair as they dived
through the elder bushes; saw them, still hand in hand, take the path on
the left side of the garden, where its party hedge could best screen
them from the back windows of the Orphanage; and poled back
meditatively.

"Got an 'ead on her shoulders, that child!" On their way up the garden
Tilda kept silence. She was busy, in fact, with Sam Bossom's
complicated itinerary, repeating it over and over to fix it in her mind.
She was fearf