He had to content himself with the arrangement she proposed. She had no unkind intentions towards the boy; she only wanted to do the best she could for herself. In the days that followed, she was good to Bert in her way, sometimes giving him a basin of broth or a few potatoes for his supper, and demanding no rent of him, save a few simple services, which he willingly rendered instead of payment.
But the boy's life was very desolate. He had no "chum" amongst the boys in the street. His devotion to the Princess had prevented him from forming any friendship, and some instinct now withheld him from entering into alliance with these rude, low lads. He went regularly to school, and his quickness and intelligence made him a favourite with his master, who showed him much kindness in a careless fashion, little thinking how he was brightening Bert's life, or what a lonely life it was.
Out of school hours, Bert earned his living by selling papers, and having no longer to provide delicacies for the Princess, he soon found himself able to save some of his pennies. This was a great satisfaction to Bert. He set his heart on accumulating a hoard of pennies by the time Prin returned, and his imagination was largely occupied in arranging the details of the feast which he meant his money to furnish in honour of her return.
Meanwhile a week passed by, and the letter Prin had promised her brother did not arrive. He was growing impatient for news of her, and watched eagerly every night and morning for the coming of the postman. But that functionary always gave the same reply to his eager question. There was no letter for him. Probably the Princess was too absorbed in her new surroundings to give a thought to her little brother.
One evening when Bert came in, having sold all his papers, the landlady had news for him.
"There's been a gentleman here asking a lot of questions about you," she said. "He wants you to go into a home or something."
"Then I ain't going into a home," said Bert, stamping his foot by way of giving emphasis to his words. "I hope you told him so."
"Oh, I told him nothing," said the landlady, with a cunning look, "except that you no longer lived in that room down there. Did I know where you was? he said; and of course I didn't know where you was—I never know where you are when you ain't here."
"Of course not," said Bert, with a twinkle in his eyes. He understood that she had purposely misled the gentleman.
"I'm glad you didn't tell him nothing. I don't want to go away and be shut up in a home. What would the Princess say if she came back and found me gone?"