lent
me a shilling once. He is kind to my little brother wot is lame. I know
wot he did, but I won't never tell, I'll go to prison 'stead of he."

Harris's color had returned. He now walked so fast that Pickles had to
run to keep up with him. Suddenly, seeing a passing omnibus, he hailed
it, and in a second was on the roof. He did not glance at Pickles. In
reply to his tale he had not answered by a single word.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE WINGS ARE GROWING.

Connie went back to Giles, sat down by him, and he resumed his reading.
He was going through the _Pilgrim's Progress_ to her, reading short
sentences at a time, for his voice was too low and weak to enable him to
exert himself for long at a time.

"Connie, wot were that as I read last?"

Connie colored.

"You weren't listening," said Giles reproachfully. "It wor a most
beautiful bit. But you didn't hear me, Connie."

"I wor thinking o' something else jest then," owned Connie. "I'll listen
now wid hall my might, dear Giles."

"Ah! but I'm tired now," said Giles; "and besides, I want to talk 'bout
something else, Connie."

"Well."

"Sue have been a whole month in the country to-day--rayther more than a
month. I don't understand it at all. I never thought as she could stay
so long away from me. I suppose 'tis hall right, and cottages such as we
want do take a powerful long time to find. It has been a long
time--wery, wery long--but have I been patient 'bout Sue all this long
time, Connie?"

"Yes, indeed, dear Giles."

"Oh! I'm glad, fur I've tried to be. Then, Connie, wot I'm thinking is
that ef Sue don't soon come back--ef she don't soon find that 'ere
cottage--why, I won't want it, Connie. Sue 'ull come back and find
me--gone."

"Gone!" echoed Connie. "Do you mean dead? Oh Giles! you're not ill
enough to die."

"Yes, Connie, I think I am. I'm so real desperate weak sometimes that I
don't like even to move a finger. I used to be hungry, too, but now I
never cares to eat. Besides, Connie dear----"

"Yes, Giles," answered Connie.

"Those wings that I told you of--why, I often seem to feel them flutter
inside of me. I told you before, Connie, that when they was full grown,
why, I'd fly away. I think they are growing wery fast. I'll want no
cottage in the country now. I'm going away to a much better place, ain't
I, Connie?"

"Oh! but, Giles, I don't want to think that--I don't want to," answered
Connie, the tears raining down her cheeks.

"'Tis