Part 55 (1/2)

”Good morning, Mr. Bossom.” Miss Sally held out a hand. ”I'm proud to make your acquaintance.”

”Thank ye, ma'am.” Sam looked at the hand, but rubbed his own up and down the seat of his trousers. ”What for, if it's not makin' too bold?”

”The lady here,” explained Mr. Hucks, ”is a friend of two children that broke out of 'Oly Innocents t'other day--as it maybe you'll remember.

What's more, she 's brought news o' them.”

”Oh!” said Sam, his face clearing. ”Doin' pretty well, I 'ope?”

”They were quite well when I left them, two days ago. Come, shake hands and tell me. How is everyone at the 'Four Alls'?”

”If it 'adn't been for them children--” blurted Sam, and came to a full stop.

Miss Sally nodded.

”They are wonders, those Babes in the Wood; and the funniest thing about 'em is, while they went along asking their way, they were all the time teaching it to others.”

”Well,” struck in Mr. Hucks, while Sam scratched his head over this, ”I suggest the conspiracy may just as well get going at once. Sam, I want you to step along to 'Oly Innocents with us, and on the road I'll fix up _your_ modest hopper'andy.”

Of this _modus operandi_ the opening move was made as the trio reached the confines of the Orphanage premises. Here, by the angle of the red brick wall, Mr. Bossom halted to strike a match for his pipe. He struck it upon the iron cover of the manhole, and thus made opportunity to a.s.sure himself that the cover was still removable. Satisfied of this, he lit his pipe and stood for a minute puffing at it, and staring, now at the stagnant ca.n.a.l water, now after the retreating figures of Miss Sally and Mr. Hucks, as without a backward look they pa.s.sed down the towpath to the Iron Bridge.

At the bridge they turned, as Tilda had turned, to the left, and came, as Tilda had come, to the Orphanage gate with its box labelled, ”For Voluntary Donations.”

Mr. Hucks rang the bell; and after a minute or so Mrs. Huggins, slatternly as ever, opened the front door and came shuffling down the pathway.

”Eh?” said she, halting within the gate, a pilaster of which hid Miss Sally from her. ”Mr. 'Ucks? And what might _you_ be wantin', Mr.

'Ucks?”

”Nineteen pound ten,” Mr. Hucks answered tersely.

”Then you can't 'ave it.”

”That's a pity.” He appeared to ruminate for a second or two. ”And I can't offer to take it out in orphans, neither. Very well, then, I must see Gla.s.son.”

”You can't; 'e's not at 'ome.”

”That's a worse pity. Hist, now!” he went on with a sudden change of tone, ”it's about the runaways. I've news of 'em.”

He said it at the top of his voice.

”For the Lord's sake--” entreated the woman, glancing nervously across his shoulder at the traffic in the street. ”The Doctor don't want it discussed for all the town to 'ear.”

”No, I bet he don't. But it's your own fault, missus. This side o' the gate a man can't scarcely hear hisself speak.”

”Come in, then, if you've brought news. The Doctor'll be glad enough when 'e comes back.”

”Will he?” Mr. Hucks, as she opened, planted his bulk against the gate, pus.h.i.+ng it back and at the same time making way for Miss Sally to follow him. ”Yes, I got news; but here's a lady can tell it better than me-- 'avin' come acrost them right away down in Somerset.”

Mrs. Huggins stepped forward, but too late. ”I don't want no crowd in 'ere,” she muttered, falling back a pace, however, as Miss Sally confronted her.

”You'll have one in two two's if you make any disturbance,” Miss Sally promised her, with half a glance back at the street. ”Show me into the house, if you please.”

”Shan't.”