doubt Pickles' mother was thoroughly accustomed to him, for she did
not smile at all, but coming gravely forward, took Sue's two hands in
hers, and looking into her face, and seeing something of the great
trouble there, said in a soft, kind tone:

"Sit down, my dear--sit down. If I can help you I will."

"Oh, you can help her real fine, mother!" said Pickles, beginning to
dance a hornpipe round them both. "And I said as you were the wery best
little 'oman in all the world, and that you would do hall you could."

"So I will, my lad; only now do let the poor dear speak for herself."

But Sue did not. There are limits beyond which fortitude will not go,
and those limits were most suddenly reached by the poor child. Her
morning's early rising, her long walk to her place of business, her hard
work when she got there; then her hurried run for the sick girl's lunch,
her cruel betrayal, her very startling capture by Pickles; the fact that
her hair had been cut off, her clothes changed, her very name altered,
until she herself felt that she must really be somebody else, and not
the Sue whom Giles loved.

All these things she had borne with tolerable calmness; but now (for Sue
was really starving) the warm room, the bright fire--above all, the kind
face that bent over her, the gentle voice that asked to hear her
tale--proved too much. She put up her toil-worn hands to her face and
burst into such sobs as strong people give way to in agony.

Mrs. Price beckoned to Pickles to go away, and then, sitting down by
Sue's side, she waited until the overloaded heart should have become a
little quieted; then she said:

"And now, my dear, you will tell me the story."

Sue did tell it--told it all--Mrs. Price sitting by and holding her
hands, and absolutely not speaking a single word.

"You believes me, marm?" said Sue at last.

Mrs. Price looked in the girl's eyes and answered simply:

"Yes, poor lamb, I quite believe you. And now I am going to get you some
supper."

She made Sue lie back in the easy-chair by the fire, and drawing out a
little round table, laid a white cloth upon it.

Sue's mind, by this time partly relieved of its load, was able to take
in its novel surroundings. The house might be very tall and very dirty,
but this room at least was clean. Floor, walls, furniture--all reflected
a due and most judicious use of soap and water; and the woman moving
about with gentle, deft fingers, arranging now this and now th