citing
fact that Sue was now missing, and that Giles was under her own father's
roof.

She sprang out of bed, and quickly dressing herself, entered the general
sitting-room. She was surprised to find that her father had taken his
breakfast and had gone; that Giles was sitting up, looking very pretty,
with his little head against the white pillow, and the crimson and gold
shawl covering his couch.

"Why, Connie," he said, the minute he saw her, "wot a silly chap I wor
yesterday! It's all as plain now as plain can be--I know everything
now."

"Wottever do you mean?" said Connie. "But don't talk too much, Giles,
till I ha' got yer yer breakfast."

"Bless yer!" said Giles, with a weak laugh, "I ha' had my breakfast an
hour and a half ago--yer father guv it to me. He be a wery kind man."

"My father guv you your breakfast?" said Connie.

She felt that wonders would never cease. Never before had Harris been
known to think of any one but himself.

"Set down by me, Connie; you can't do naught for your breakfast until
the kettle boils. I'll tell yer now w'ere Sue is."

"Where?" asked Connie. "Oh Giles! have yer heard of her?"

"Course I 'ave--I mean, it's all as clear as clear can be. It's only
that Sue 'ave more money than she told me 'bout, and that she's a-tryin'
to give me my 'eart's desire."

"Your 'eart's desire, Giles?"

"Yus--her an' me 'ave always 'ad our dream; and dear Sue--she's a-makin'
it come to pass, that's all. It's as plain as plain can be. She's a-gone
to the country."

"To the country? Oh no, Giles; I don't think so. Wottever 'ud take her
to the country at this time o' year?"

"It's there she be," said Giles. "She knew as I wanted dreadful to 'ear
wot it were like, an' she 'ave gone. Oh Connie, you went to the country;
but she didn't guess that. She ha' gone--dear Sue 'ave--to find out all
for herself; an' she thought it 'ud be a rare bit of a s'prise for me. I
must make the most of it w'en I see her, and ax her about the flowers
and everything. She's sartin to be back to-day. Maybe, too, she could
get work at plain sewin' in the country; an' she an' me could live in a
little cottage, an' see the sun in the sky, and 'ear the birds a
singin'. It's a'most like 'eaven to think of the country--ain't it,
Connie?"

"Yus," said Connie, "the country's beautiful; but wicked people come out
o' Lunnon to it, an' then it's sad. An' there's no flowers a-growin' in
the fields and 'edges in the winter, Gi