The hard floor was not comfortable, but Meg was not used to comfort, and her thoughts so engrossed her that she scarcely noticed the hardness. She had had an exciting day, and felt encouraged by her experience in the kitchen of the house close by. Jem had said the world was a wicked place; but, thought Meg, perhaps he was ignorant of the fact that there were many kind people in it notwithstanding, and if she had fared so well the first day why need she fear? With five shillings in her pocket, which to the girl, who had never possessed a penny of her own, seemed untold riches, she could face her future.
Then her thoughts Hew to the motherly face of Mrs. Brown, and she sighed. The care and kindness of the cook had created a longing in the heart of the singer. What must it be to have a mother! A real mother! Not like the false one that all these years she had believed to be hers. Where was her mother? And who was she? Meg's large eyes stared up into the dark sky which she could see from the summer house, spangled over with stars, and she sighed again. Her soul was athirst for something—someone—she knew not what. She was as:—
"An infant crying in the night:
An infant crying for the light:
And with no language but a cry."
Meg awoke to find the sun streaming in upon her, and started up, fearful lest she should be discovered in the summer house. She gained the road without being seen. She need not have feared. It was only four o'clock and the world was still asleep.
The sense of freedom seemed to give her wings, and she walked the mile that lay between her and Minton in so short a time that she arrived before anyone was astir. It was to walk down the quiet streets and to see every door closed against her. It struck her as almost a city of the dead. The delightful sense of freedom died for a time within her, and she felt desperately lonely. She stood in the middle of the High Street looking first one way and then another, hesitatingly, and was almost afraid of the sound of her own footsteps.
Then she turned and fled back the way she had come, not resting till she had found a gate leading into a field where she could sit and wait for the sound of human life. She felt happier in the field, and the birds were amazingly tame. Not accustomed to being disturbed at that early hour by man, they came close to where she was sitting, and the girl was thankful for their company.
She decided that as she had enough money to carry her on for some time, she would only stay to get food at Minton, and then set out for the next town on the way to London. For the more she thought of Bostock's wild beasts and his advertisement for girls to train, of which she had heard in the public house where she had sung, the keener she became to apply for the post, and the more impatient of any delay.
[CHAPTER III]
ANGEL
MISS GREGSON dropped her knitting on to her knee and surveyed her former pupil critically as she stood leaning against the window. What a picture the girl made! The back of her head was particularly pretty, as little curls lay at the nape of her neck and shone with streaks of gold. She was slim and tall and graceful in all her movements.