d had
put on an ample satin gown of black with broad yellow stripes. She was
in high good-humor, and going up to Connie, gave her a resounding smack
on the cheek.

"Now," she said, "yer won't think 'ard of poor Mammy Warren. See wot
I've gone an' got an' bought for yer."

Connie turned quickly. A soft little blue handkerchief, delicately
folded in tissue-paper, was laid on the table by the girl.

"Why--why--that ain't for me!" said Connie.

"Yes, but it be! Why shouldn't it be for you? I saw yer lookin' at that
purty young lydy who was as like yer as two peas. I watched 'ow yer
stared at the blue 'andkercher, and 'ow yer sort o' longed for it."

"But indeed--indeed I didn't."

"Anyhow, here's another, and yer can have it, and wear it peeping out
among yer fur. I take it that yer blue 'andkercher'll take the cake."

"Then you've bought it for me?" said Connie.

"Yus--didn't I zay so?"

"But I never seen yer do it," said Connie.

"Seen me do it?" said Mrs. Warren, her eyes flashing with anger. "You
was too much taken up with yer own conceits, my gel--hevery one staring
at yer, 'cos poor old Mammy Warren 'ad made yer so beautiful. But though
you was full to the brim o' yourself, I warn't so selfish; I were
thinkin' o' you--and yere's yer 'andkercher."

Connie took up the handkerchief slowly. Strange as it may seem, it gave
her no pleasure. She said, "Thank you, Mrs. Warren," in a subdued voice,
and took it into her little bedroom.

Connie felt that she did not particularly want to wear the handkerchief.
She did not know why, but a trouble, the first of the many troubles she
was to undergo in the terrible society of Mrs. Warren, came over her.
She went back again and sat down by the fire. During the greater part of
the afternoon the stout woman slept. Connie watched her furtively. A
strong desire to get up and run away seized her. Could she not get out
of that house and go back to Sue and Giles? How happy she would feel in
Giles's bare little room! How she would enjoy talking with the child!
With what wonder they would both listen to Big Ben as he spoke in that
voice of his the number of the hours! Giles would make up fairy-tales
for Connie to listen to. How Connie did love the "wonnerful" things he
said about the big "Woice"! One day it was cheerful, another day sad,
another day very encouraging, another day full of that noble influence
which the child himself so largely exercised. At all times it was an
ang