d help him, maybe. Not a bit o' me! I
don't harbor no guilty parties, Cinderella, as I ha' told yer heaps and
heaps o' times. No, he's guilty, and he goes ter prison; there ain't
nothink hard in sending him ter prison."

"It ha' seemed ter me often lately, Pickles, as it must be harder to lie
in prison guilty than not guilty--you ha'nt, nothink ter trouble yer
mind ef yer ain't guilty."

"Well then, I s'pose, in that case, as yer'll give yerself hup."

"I'd a deal rayther be in hiding with yer, Pickles; but I don't feel as
ef I _could_ put Mr. Harris in prison."

"Then you must go yerself, fur this thing can't go on fur ever."

Sue looked frightened, and her commonplace gray eyes fell to the ground.
She took up the poker and began to trace a pattern on the floor: it was
as intricate as her own fate just now. She was a little heroine,
however, and her noble thoughts redeemed all plainness from her face
when at last she spoke:

"Once, Pickles, arter mother died we was brought down wery low. I had a
dreadful influenzy, and I couldn't nohow go to the machining, and we
were near starving. Mr. Harris lent me a shilling that time, and we
pulled through. Another time I couldn't meet the rent, and Connie, she
begged of her father, and he give me the money; and when I offerd it him
back again he wouldn't take it. He wor a rough man, but he had a kind
heart. When I were last at home he wor in a real dreadful trouble about
Connie--and I loved Connie better nor any one in hall the world, arter
Giles. Pickles, it 'ud break Connie's heart fur her father to be tuk to
prison. I don't know why he did that--ef he really did do it--but I
can't furget those two times as he wor good ter me, and hever since I
have come yere he have done heverything fur Giles. No, I couldn't send
Mr. Harris to prison. I couldn't rest heasy ef I thought o' him sent
there by me. I'd rayther lie there myself."

"Wery well, Cinderella; in course you've got ter choose, fur one or
other of yer must go to prison, as it is against hall common-sense as
you could stay hiding here fur ever. I hadmires yer rare consideration
fur that hardened man, Peter Harris. I can't understand it--no, not the
least bit in the world--but I hadmires it as I hadmires the top o' the
big mountain wot I could never climb, but jest contemplate solemnly from
below. I can understand better yer repugnance not to break the heart o'
that purty Connie. Most plain women is hard on their more