I dunno," said Connie. "Seems as though a hangel was with us all the
time."

"I expect so," answered Ronald in a very weak voice.

"And," continued Connie, "he's a-leadin' of us 'ere."

They had pressed the bell, and quickly--wonderfully quickly--they heard
steps running down the stairs; and the door was opened by a tall
woman--very tall and very thin--with a beautiful pale face and soft
motherly eyes.

"What is it?" she asked. "What is the matter? Oh, my poor little dears!
And how you smell of fire! Have you been in a fire?"

"Please, ma'am," said Connie, "be yer the mother o' Mr. George
Anderson--the bravest fireman, ma'am? He told me to give yer this card,
ma'am."

"I am Mrs. Anderson. Oh, of course, if he's sent you----"

"_'E_ saved us from the fire, ma'am," said Connie.

"Come in, you poor little things," said Mrs Anderson. She drew the
children in; she shut the door behind them. It seemed to Connie when
that door shut that it shut out sorrow and pain and hunger and cold; for
within the house there was warmth--not only warmth for frozen little
bodies, but for tired souls.

Mrs. Anderson was one of the most motherly women in London; and George,
her son, knew what he was about when he sent the children to her.

Soon they were revived with warm baths and with hot port-wine and water,
and very soon afterwards they were both lying in beds covered with linen
sheets that felt soft and fine as silk. But Mrs. Anderson sat by them
both while they slept, for she did not like the look on the boy's face,
and felt very much afraid of the shock for him.

"The little girl can stand more," she said to herself. "She's a
beautiful little creature, but she's a child of the people. She has been
accustomed to hardships all her life; but with the boy it's
different--he's a gentleman by birth. Something very cruel has happened
to him, poor little lad! and this seems to be the final straw."

Mrs. Anderson was a very wise woman, and her fears with regard to little
Ronald were all too quickly realized. By the morning the boy was in a
high state of fever. A doctor was summoned, and Mrs. Anderson herself
nursed him day and night. Connie begged to be allowed to remain, and her
request was granted.

"For the present you shall stay with me," said Mrs. Anderson. "I don't
know your story, nor the story of this little fellow, but I am
determined to save his life if I can."

"I can tell yer something," said Connie. "Little Ronald's