ather," said Connie, suddenly suppressing her tears, "that's the
most dreadful part of all--Sue ain't there!"

"Not there? Not to 'ome?" thundered Harris.

"No, father--she ha' niver come back. It's goin' on for twelve
o'clock--an' Giles expected her soon arter six! She ain't come back,
'ave Sue. Wottever is to be done, father?"

Harris walked to the fire and poked it into a fierce blaze. Then he
turned his back on Connie, and began to fumble with his neck-tie,
tightening it and putting it in order.

"Father," said Connie.

"Wull?"

"Wot are we to do 'bout Sue?"

"She'll be back come mornin'."

"Father," said Connie again, "may I go and spend the night 'long o'
Giles? He's too weakly to be left."

"No," said Harris; "I won't leave yer out o' my sight. Ef there's
kidnappin' about an' it looks uncommon like it--you stay safe within
these four walls."

"But Giles--Giles?" said Connie.

"I'll fetch Giles 'ere."

"Father! So late?"

"Yus--why not? Ef there's kidnappin' about, there's niver any sayin'
w'en Sue may be back. I'll go and fetch him now, and you can get that
sofy ready for him; he can sleep on it. There--I'm off! Sue--God knows
wot's come o' Sue; but Giles, e' sha'n't want."

Harris opened the door, went out, and shut it again with a bang. Connie
waited within the room. She was trembling with a strange mixture of fear
and joy. How strange her father was--and yet he was good too! He was not
drunk to-night. That was wonderful. It was sweet of him to think of
bringing Giles to Connie's home, where Connie could look after him and
give him the best food, and perhaps save his life. Children as
inexperienced as Connie are apt to take a cheerful view even when things
are at their lowest. Connie instantly imagined that Giles in his new and
far more luxurious surroundings would quickly recover.

She began eagerly to prepare a place for him. She dragged a mattress
from her own bed, and managed to put it on the sofa; then she unlocked a
trunk which always stood in the sitting-room; she knew where to find the
key. This trunk had belonged to her mother, and contained some of that
mother's clothing, and also other things.

Connie selected from its depths a pair of thin and very fine linen
sheets. These she aired by the fire, and laid them over the mattress
when they were quite warm. There was a blanket, white and light and very
warm, which was also placed over the linen sheets; and a down pillow was
found w