Arthur was a big heavy boy of two years, but Peggy lifted him in her arms and staggered down the stairs bravely. Once in the street, she put him down on his feet.
"We'll come and see Mrs. Creek," she said. "I'm a-longin' to have a talk with 'er!"
Arthur gurgled assent, and stumbled along contentedly by her side.
She marched down the alley, then turned a corner into a more respectable street, presently paused before a tiny sweet-shop.
It was a clean little place; and behind the small-counter sat a cheery-faced little woman with spectacles on her nose and a work-basket by her side. How Mrs. Creek could live and thrive in such a neighbourhood was a mystery to many. The children loved her almost as well as her sweets. She had no belongings, but eked out her scanty living by mending and making for some of her bettermost neighbours. A card in her window asserted—
"PLAIN SEWING TAKEN IN."
But Mrs. Creek's needle was required for many varieties, from piecing a small corduroy breeches to trimming a bonnet; and darning stockings was her relaxation. She and Peggy were the greatest friends. She knew, though the cripple aunt was a respectable hard-working woman, she was a harsh task-mistress. Peggy waited on her aunt hand and foot, and never got a bright, pleasant word from her.
"Please 'm," began Peggy, dragging her small charge into the shop, "I'll have a halfpenny barley-stick for h'Arthur. And, please 'm, will you tell me once agen how you first went to service."
"Bless your little heart! Sit ye down, child, on that there empty box. And there's the barley-stick. Why, what a fine boy he is growing!"
Then she shook her head reprovingly at Peggy.