"Your Uncle thought he was going today, but it has been put off till next Tuesday, New Year's Day, when his uncle returns from abroad. Till then your uncle says you must stay here."
There I stayed. Four walls, locked door, and precipitous roof baffled all my notions of escape. The best thing I could think of was a rush for the door when Aunt Martha came with my food; but I saw this would not be much good. She would raise the alarm, and he would catch me before I could get clear of the house.
Five days passed, long, cold and wretched; though with the big blanket, and the forbidden extras Aunt Martha contrived sometimes to convey me with my meals, I managed to keep alive, and kept, in my fashion of health, reasonably well. No message came from Robbie. No doubt Uncle Simeon was watching him day and night. But still—.
I was not sure of the passage of time, but I reckoned one night that it was New Year's Eve. The last night, and still no message. Tomorrow he was going: this time for certain, and for ever; I should be left alone with my tormentor. Half in terror (of Uncle Simeon when he should get me alone), half in hope (of a sign from Robbie), I lay awake through the whole of that night. It struck midnight. The bells rang out; merrily, mockingly. It was New Year's night as I had thought. All over the town people, even Saints, were wishing each other a Happy New Year. The bells were still. I lay awake waiting for something to happen, for I knew it would. All the night-time sounds of an old house were around me. Boards creaked, roof shook, rats scampered. Sometimes I was startled by a metallic sound as a rat scampered over the tin plate on which Aunt Martha brought my bread.
There—that was a new sound! That tapping noise at the door was never a rat. It seemed low down just where a rat might scratch, but that was the rap of human knuckles, faint but unmistakable. Who? Why? I crawled out of the blanket, lay down on the bare boards and whispered under the door.
"Robbie, is that you, Robbie?"
There was no reply except the stealthy sound of something being pushed under the door. I saw a white thing that looked like a small envelope. I touched it and felt inside the paper a hard round thing. It was the half-sovereign he had promised me.
"Robbie, Robbie, thank you! Are you there? Robbie, Robbie."
There was no reply. I heard cautious footsteps, with a long interval between each, going down the creaky old stairs. How I wished he had whispered one word, one word. He had thought I was asleep and had not dared to speak loud enough to wake me. Never mind, it was better that the last thing was Christmas Night's perfect good-bye.
I clutched the envelope and mourned the weary hours of waiting until I could read it, for I had no candle. I kept my eyes staring wide open to prevent myself falling asleep. I could feel that there was a letter as well as money inside the envelope. I knew it would help me; I was impatient to know how. So much did it raise my hopes, that I fell to thinking of the coach-ride to Tawborough, of what Grandmother would say and how Aunt Jael would receive me.