Mr. Travers put the money into Griselda's hand, and she held it towards the child.
"What brought you to Mr. Herschel's?" she asked.
"Brian Bellis sings at the Octagon every Sunday; he told me Mr. Herschel was kind, but he was wrong; it is you who are kind."
"Tell me where you live, and I will come, perhaps; or at any rate send someone to give you help."
"We live in Crown Alley; but Brian Bellis will tell you, madam. Oh!" the child said, "you are beautiful as the princess in the play; and you are good too, I know."
"Come, be off, you little wretch. We don't care to stay here all night for you, and orders waiting," said one of the chair-men.
"Will you find out Brian Bellis for me? Will you discover from Miss Herschel if the tale is true—now—I mean now? I will pay you extra for waiting," Griselda said to the men.
"Can't wait to obleege you, miss; if you don't step in we shall have to charge double fare."
Then Griselda got into the chair; the lid was let down with a jerk; the men took up the poles, and set off at a quick trot to North Parade.
The child was still standing on the doorstep, and Leslie Travers said: