hy did you run away from 'em?"

"I was frightened," answered Florence. "I didn't know what I did. I
thought they were with me. Where are they?"

The old woman took her by the wrist, and said, "I'll show you."

She was a very ugly old woman indeed, miserably dressed, and carried
some skins over her arm. Florence was afraid of her, and looked,
hesitating, up the street. It was a solitary place, and there was no one
in it but herself and the old woman.

"You needn't be frightened now," said the old woman, still holding her
tight "Come along with me."

"I--don't know you. What's your name?" asked Florence.

"Mrs. Brown," said the old woman, "Good Mrs. Brown. Susan ain't far
off," said Good Mrs. Brown, "and the others are close to her, and
nobody's hurt."

The child shed tears of delight on hearing this, and accompanied the old
woman willingly. They had not gone far, when they stopped before a
shabby little house in a dirty little lane. Opening the door with a key
she took out of her pocket, Mrs. Brown pushed the child into a back
room, where there was a great heap of rags lying on the floor, a heap of
bones, and a heap of sifted dust. But there was no furniture at all, and
the walls and ceiling were quite black.

The child became so terrified, that she was stricken speechless, and
looked as though about to swoon.

"Now, don't be a young mule," said Good Mrs. Brown, reviving her with a
shake. "I'm not a' going to keep you, even above an hour. Don't vex me.
If you don't, I tell you, I won't hurt you. But if you do, I'll kill
you. I could have you killed at any time--even if you was in your own
bed at home. Now let's know who you are, and what you are, and all
about it."

The old woman's threats and promises, and Florence's habit of being
quiet, and repressing what she felt, enabled her to tell her little
history. Mrs. Brown listened attentively until she had finished.

"I want that pretty frock, Miss Dombey," said Good Mrs. Brown, "and that
little bonnet, and a petticoat or two, and those shoes, Miss Dombey, and
anything else you can spare. Come! take 'em off."

Florence obeyed as fast as her trembling hands could allow, keeping all
the while, a frightened eye on Mrs. Brown, who examined each article of
apparel at leisure, and seemed tolerably well satisfied with their
quality and value; she then produced a worn-out girl's cloak, and the
crushed remnants of a girl's bonnet, as well as other tattered things.
In