Dick unclasped my hand and went up to her sturdily.
"I'm not afraid," he said. "I'll go with you. Come, sister."
Of course if Dick went I had to go, too, for he was the smaller. I started with a reluctant step.
"That's the little lady!" the woman cried, exultingly.
Our way lay down the block, and then straight away to the right through a network of dirty lanes where the houses were crowded together, leaning up against one another as though for support. In some places the rain had dripped from the roofs into sloppy pools on the ground, and the path was rough with fallen bricks and mortar. The woman was very careful of us. She showed us the cleanest way, and when the goats came too near she stood in between them and us, and shooed them off. And, at last, we came to a house, old and battered, with very rickety front steps and windows stuffed with rags; that was her home.
There was a stout woman going up the steps with a pail of soapy water in her hand who stopped to regard us.
"Where did you get them kids, Becky Dean?" she demanded.
"That's my business," our new friend cried, fiercely.
She seemed to bristle with rage.
"Well, I hope there's no harm in it," the other replied, curtly, continuing on her way.