"I know wot I'm about," she said. "The blue in the 'andkercher'll add to
the blue in yer eyes. Pop it on, gel, and be quick."

Connie obeyed.

"I don't--want to," she said.

"And _w'y_ don't yer?"

The woman's voice was very fierce.

"I'm somehow sort o' feared."

"Take that for bein' sort o' feared," said Mrs. Warren; and she hit the
child so fierce a blow on the arm that Connie cried out from the pain.

Poor Connie was a very timorous creature, however, and the effect of the
blow was to make her meek and subservient. The blue handkerchief was
tied on and arranged to Mrs. Warren's satisfaction, and they both went
out into the open air.

They went by 'bus to quite a different part of the town on this
occasion, and Mrs. Warren again assured her little companion that she
had a great deal of shopping to get through.

"That is why I wear this cloak," she said; "I ha' bags fastened inside
to hold the things as I buy."

Once again they got into a crowd, and once again Connie was desired to
walk on a little way in front, and once again people turned to look at
the slim, fair child with her beautiful face and lovely hair. Once more
they entered several shops, and invariably chose the most crowded
parts--so crowded that Mrs. Warren whispered to Connie:

"We must wait till our turn, honey. We must ha' patience, dearie."

They had patience. Mrs. Warren did absolutely purchase half-a-dozen very
coarse pocket-handkerchiefs, keeping Connie close to her all the time.
One of these she straightway presented to the girl, saying in a loud
voice as she did so to the attendant:

"I'm out with the purty dear to give her exercise. I am her nurse. She
mustn't walk too far. No, thank you, mum, I'll carry the 'andkerchers
'ome myself; I won't trouble yer to send them to Portland
Mansions.--Now, come along, my dear; we mustn't waste our time in this
'ot shop. We must be hout, taking of our exercise."

They walked a very, very long way that morning, and Mrs. Warren,
contrary to her yesterday's plan, did now and then expend a few pence.
Whenever she did so she drew the shop people's attention to Connie,
speaking of her as her charge, and a "dear, delicate young lydy," and
begging of the people to be quick, as "'ot air" was so bad for the dear
child; and invariably she refused to allow a parcel to be sent to
Portland Mansions, saying that she preferred to carry it. At last,
however, she seemed to think that Connie had had sufficien