She asked him once if the stock wasn’t getting low, and he nodded his head.
‘I’m going to give up business, my lass,’ he said, with the nearest approach to a smile, his stern, fierce face could manage.
‘We’re going to make our fortunes and retire.’
Gertie listened to her grandfather’s retreating footsteps, then she flung herself down by Lion, and, throwing her arms round the dog’s neck, cried out:
‘Oh, Lion, Lion, however shall we let Miss Adrian know?’ She sat by the dog as the hours went by, endeavouring to think how she could get to the address on the piece of paper without being discovered.
She didn’t know if it was near or far. She thought she would wait till the night, when it was time to feed the animals, shut up the place, and go upstairs to her own little room.
She always locked the door at night, and her grandfather had another key which he let himself in with, as he had to pass through the ‘shop,’ as he called it, to get to his bedroom.
Perhaps she could get out and get home again before he came in.
As the afternoon waned and the evening brought the longed-for darkness, Gertie’s plans began to assume a more definite shape.
Trembling and almost terrified at her own boldness, she put on her bonnet and cloak, and went the round of the cages and the hutches and kennels, giving the few animals that were left their evening ration. For each she had a kind word, and they all came at her call as close to her as their surroundings would allow them.