"Why, I thought so; but then you know I only had the littlest bit of a glimpse, so how could I tell? And fancy if I had missed Hampton Court for nothing."
"So we will decide that it was not the little girl after all," said Leveson.
"I can't, because—I suppose it was," said Josie, with a cloudy look. "Leveson, I know you think I ought to have wanted to stop to speak to her. But it would be so very very hard to bear, if I couldn't go to Hampton Court. And I hardly ever get any pleasure. It is very unkind of you."
Leveson put a kind hand under her chin, and made her look up into his face.
"My dear little woman, that is all fancy. You have talked so much of the poor child, that I thought you had a very particular interest in her—"
"And so I have,—but she isn't Hampton Court," murmured Josie.
"So that was why I put the question about speaking to her. But I dare say you will meet her again some day, as she seems to frequent that road. No doubt her home is near."
"She hasn't any home," said Josie.
"She had not, perhaps; but probably she has found friends of some description—or her mother may be out of jail before now.
"Why, so she may," said Josie, brightening. "I didn't think of that. And you don't think I was very wrong to want to go on?"