"I realised that Fanny was crying. Then when I glanced at her again her tears were over.
"'Look here, Harry,' she said, 'would you do—something—for me? Something—not so very much—and not tell? Not tell afterwards, I mean.'
"'I'd do anything, Fanny.'
"'It's not so very much really. There's that little old portmanteau upstairs. I've put some things in it. And there's a little bundle. I've put 'em both under the bed at the back where even Prying Prue won't think of looking. And to-morrow—when father's out with uncle like he is now every day, and mother's getting dinner downstairs and Prue's pretending to help her and sneaking bits of bread—if you'd bring those down to Cliffstone to Crosby's side-door.... They aren't so very heavy.'
"'I ain't afraid of your portmanteau, Fanny. I'd carry it more miles than that for you. But where's this new situation of yours, Fanny? and why ain't you saying a word about it at home?'
"'Suppose I asked you something harder than carrying a portmanteau, Harry?'
"'I'd do it, Fanny, if I could do it. You know that, Fanny.'
"'But if it was just to ask no questions of where I am going and what I am going to do? It's—it's a good situation, Harry. It isn't hard work.'
"She stopped short. I saw her face by the yellow light of a street lamp and I was astonished to see it radiant with happiness. And yet her eyes were shining with tears. What a Fanny it was, who could pass in a dozen steps from weeping to ecstasy!
"'Oh! I wish I could tell you all about it, Harry,' she said. 'I wish I could tell you all about it. Don't you worry about me, Harry, or what's going to happen to me. You help me, and after a bit I'll write to you. I will indeed, Harry.'