Mrs. Seymour said no more, but went into the back room to see if Meg had waked. Still she and Dickie slept; so leaving the door ajar, she ascended to her own rooms, taking a cup of tea in her hand for her lodger.
She found her awake, and very glad of the tea and the latest news. While they were talking Cherry raised her head from her pillow and looked round startled. Then she saw Mrs. Seymour's kind face, and understood it all.
"Have you slept long enough, my dear?" she asked.
"I think so; when I opened my eyes at first I thought it was two years ago, and that this was our home before father took to drink so bad."
"Did your mother die since then?"
"Yes," said Cherry; "I forget exactly, but one thing I know, she was dreadfully ill on Christmas Day—not this last one, nor the one before that, but two years ago—and she died in a few days. Soon after that father got bad; he used to drink afore, but not so much; and then our things went one by one, and at last——" Cherry shuddered.
"At last?" questioned Mrs. Seymour.
"He got tired of me askin' for food for me and Dickie, and we'd been a long time livin' in that big room where's there's such a lot of 'em, and then he agrees with old Sairy to take Dickie out with her, and let him share the profits; and he was out with 'em for I should say nigh on six months. At last Dickie was took so ill that he couldn't walk another step, and for a long time I thought he'd 'a died; I wished he had."
"And was that when you began to know my Meg?"
"Yes. Oh, she was awful kind to us. And then we went hoppin', and father and me earned a lot; but he hadn't been home but a little while afore he'd drunk up every bit of it, and then he thinks of sendin' Dickie out ag'in; and then they was that cruel to us both. Look here!"