Her mistress paid her month's wages the next morning, but deducted sixpence for the broken tumbler as she had threatened, which greatly offended the girl, for she had made up her mind to take the whole twelve shillings to Mrs. Stanley.
On Saturday night, she went to bed as early as she could, for she was afraid of oversleeping herself the next morning. Five o'clock was an early hour to be astir; but she must contrive to dress and be out soon afterwards, for she was to join the Stanleys a mile beyond the town by six. The bonnet and shawl that she was to wear had been thrown over the gate on Friday night, and she had that safely tucked away in her almost empty box. The few remaining articles of her wardrobe she made into a bundle before she went to bed, and then lay down and tried to go to sleep.
But for once sleep refused to come to her eyes. She lay tossing on her pillow, her mind full of doubt now as to whether she had done a wise thing in deciding to run away with this woman. Conscience spoke, and told her it was a wrong and foolish thing to do; but she assured herself she must go on now in the path she had chosen, for she had no clothes to wear, and, therefore, she could not turn back.
A more uncomfortable night Lizzie never spent. She turned from side to side, but sleep she could not; and at last, when she heard the church clock strike two, she decided that she must not go to sleep now, for fear she should not wake up in the morning until it was too late to join her new adviser.
If the silly girl had only known it—could only have peeped a little way into the future, she would have seen that this would have been a merciful interposition of Providence; but she took care not to close her eyes again. She sat up in bed, and then got a light and a book to read. But the book did not interest her, and so she dressed herself in the clean clothes she had put ready. She made this occupy as much time as possible, and brushed and combed her hair for nearly an hour before plaiting it up again. In this way, the time went until daylight came, and then she heard several church clocks strike five, which was the signal for her to go down-stairs.
She put on her bonnet and shawl, but carried her boots in her hand, as well as the bundle, and she did not venture to put on her boots until she was safe outside the back door. There was only the bolt of the garden gate to draw then, and she would be free—free, and on her way to meet the splendid fortune that awaited her!
Once outside and in the street, Lizzie walked on with less fear, though her own echoing footsteps this still Sunday morning almost frightened her. There was not a creature to be seen, not even a milkman had made his appearance yet, and Lizzie had walked some distance before the slow heavy tread of a policeman was heard on the echoing pathway.
Of course he took no notice of the girl, and could not see her face under the close-fitting black silk bonnet, that had evidently been made for some very old lady.
So she sped on, and just as the first strokes of six were sounding through the quiet morning air, Lizzie caught sight of the line of caravans slowly lumbering down a side road from the other end of the town.
She waited for them to come up, and in a few minutes Mrs. Stanley joined her. The woman looked carefully up and down both roads, but finding there was nobody but their own party in sight, she stopped the horse of the smartest-looking caravan, and told the girl to jump in as quickly as she could.