lucky sisters,
and I hadmires you, Cinderella, fur rising superior to the wices of yer
sex; but wot I can't hunderstand--wot puzzles me--is yer sad failure in
sisterly love. There's that little brother; why, heven now he's pining
hal to nothing to see yer. Don't yer think as it 'ull break _his_ heart
ef yer is tuk ter prison? Why, ef yer could have seen him when he heerd
me even hint at sech a thing! He said as he wished as he could knock me
down."

The tears rapidly filled Sue's eyes. "Pickles," she said after a moment
of thought, "'tis a wonderful, wonderful puzzlement ter me. I can't
least of all break the heart of Giles. Giles wor left ter me by mother,
and I promised as I'd allers tend him real faithful; but wot I 'as bin
thinking is that ef yer must give me hup, and not hide me any longer,
and I must be locked hup fur a time, that perhaps we might manage as
Giles might still think as I wor in the country. Connie would be wery
good ter him, and Mr. Harris would support him jest as well as I could
have done. Giles, he's that innercent that he'd easily be made ter
believe as I could not help going away. He knows nothink o' life, little
Giles don't; he'd never, never guess as there were ought o' the prison
'bout me, and arter a time he'd get accustomed to doing widout me. I
think, Pickles, we might manage so as not to break Giles's heart, and
yet fur me to go ter prison."

"Then you really, really chooses to go ter prison, Cinderella?"

"I choose, Pickles, never to tell on Peter Harris--never, wot hever
happens. I don't want ter go to prison--not one bit--but ef I can't stay
hiding, why, I s'pose as I must."

"You can't stay hiding more than a day or two longer, Cinderella, and I
thinks as ye're a great fool;" and Pickles walked out of the room in
apparently high dudgeon.

CHAPTER XXIX.

A LITTLE HEROINE.

Two days afterwards it was Sunday. Pickles and his mother went to
church, but Sue did not accompany them. She had hitherto,
notwithstanding her disguise, been afraid to stir abroad. To-day,
however, when mother and son had departed, she ran eagerly up to the
tiny attic where she slept. In this attic was an old box without a lock.
Sue opened it in some perturbation. There were several articles of
wearing apparel in this box, all of a mothy and mouldy character. One by
one Cinderella pulled them out. First there was a purple silk dress. She
gazed at it with admiration. Yes; no one would ever recognize