"Oh, as for that—" The woman laughed significantly. She did not believe that the lady who had taken the girl away would ever let her come back to that street. But she felt no compunction for having done her best to prevent the gentleman from tracing Bert. The boy was useful to her, and she wished to keep him at hand.
"Why, I declare!" she exclaimed the next moment, as the form of the postman suddenly appeared at the end of the passage, obscuring the light. Bert started at the sound of the loud rat-tat, then sprang eagerly to the door.
"Here, young man," cried the postman good-temperedly. "Isn't it you who are always asking me for a letter, and isn't your name Bertram Sinclair? Here you are then."
Bert could hardly believe in his good fortune as he seized the letter. The Princess had written at last, when he had ceased to hope that she would. Yes, the direction was written by her in a clear, though somewhat straggling hand. Carefully Bert opened the envelope. He would not tear it more than he could help, for even that was precious, as coming from the Princess. The light was waning in the passage, so he went to the door and seated himself on the step to read his precious letter. It was not very long, and he soon mastered its contents. The spelling was somewhat peculiar, but what Prin said was this:—
"DEAR BERT,—
"Perhaps you think that I might have written before, but really everything is so lovely here that I couldn't be bothered to write. It's not a bit like London here. There's a garden full of flowers, and fields, and woods with lots of primroses and violets that any one may pick. The lady keeps cows, and I have as much milk as I can drink, and every day I drive about in a beautiful carriage. Every one says how well I look, so different from what I was when I came. I am to stay here all the summer, and the lady says I must go to school of a morning, which I shall not like so much. She says she would like to keep me altogether, for I am so quick and clever she could teach me anything. Would you mind If I never came back at all?
"How is old Mother Kay? Does she drink as much as ever? I hate to think of how horrid everything used to be. I am so much better off here. Hoping you are as well as this leaves me.
"I remain,
"Yours truly,
"PRIN."
It was not a very affectionate or sisterly letter, but, such as it was, it was the only letter Bert had ever had from the Princess, and he regarded it with considerable admiration. Yet there was that in it which stung him. Would he mind if she never came back? Surely Prin might have known that he would mind.
[CHAPTER V]
The New Lodger
BERT read the Princess's letter over and over again, till he knew the words by heart. To keep it safely, he pinned it within his ragged jacket; but it was often in his hands, till from constant handling the paper became soiled and ragged. It was well he treasured it, for he got no second letter from Prin.
Week after week passed on. Spring grew into summer, and the sun's heat was fervid, and the air close and tainted in the narrow street in which Bert lived; but Prin, enjoying the fresher, sweeter atmosphere, and more wholesome life of the country, sent no token of remembrance to her brother. She did not write again, and it never occurred to Bert to write to her.