sure that it's her, for Sally may have bin mistook, you know."

"You don't know her name, do you?" asked Robin; "it wasn't Edie Willis,
now, was it?"

"'Ow should _I_ know 'er name?" answered the Slogger. "D'you think I
stopped to inquire w'en I 'elped to relieve 'er of 'er propity?"

"Ah, I suppose not. Vell, I suppose you've no objection to my goin' to
watch along wi' you."

"None wotsomever; on'y remember, if it do turn out to be 'er, you won't
betray me. Honour bright! She may be revengeful, you know, an' might
'ave me took up if she got 'old of me."

Robin Slidder faithfully and earnestly pledged himself. While he was
speaking there was a general movement among the lads and boys towards
the class-room, for Miss Blythe was seen coming towards them. The two
friends moved with the rest. Just as he was about to enter the door,
Robin missed his companion, and, looking back, saw him bending down, and
holding his sides as if in pain.

"Wot's wrong now?" he inquired, returning to him.

"Oh! I'm took so bad," said the Slogger, looking very red, and rubbing
himself; "a old complaint as I thought I was cured of. Oh, dear! you'll
'ave to excuge me, Robin. I'll go an' take a turn, an' come in if I
gits better. If not, I'll meet you round the corner arter it's over."

So saying, the Slogger, turning round, walked quickly away, and his
little friend entered the class-room in a state of mind pendulating
between disgust and despair, for he had no expectation of seeing the
slippery Slogger again that night.

When the meeting was over, Miss Blythe returned home. I saw her enter
the library. No one else was there, I knew. The gas had not yet been
lighted, and only a faint flicker from the fire illumined the room.
Unable to bear the state of uncertainty under which my mind still
laboured, I resolved to make assurance doubly sure, or quit the house--
and England--for ever!

I spare the reader the details. Suffice it to say that after much
entreaty, I got her to admit that she loved me, but she refused to
accept me until she had told me her whole history.

"Then I'm sure of you now," said I, in triumph; "for, be your history
what it may, I'll never give you up, dearest Lilly--"

"Don't call me Lilly," she said in a low, quiet tone; "it is only a pet
name which the little ones here gave me on my first coming to them.
Call me Edith."

"I will," said I, with enthusiasm, "a far more beautiful name. I'll--"