"Here is a tract that you can read before you go to sleep, if they allow you a candle, when you get a-bed. It is entitled 'Groans of Grace, or the Sinner Sifted,' a most godly production, from a pious bookseller in Paternoster-row, Charley."
"Yes," Johanna just managed to say.
"Now you may go."
She darted from the shop.
"Hilloa! hilloa! Stop—stop, Charley! Stop—stop, will you? Confound you, stop! The infernal shutters are not up. Do you hear? I forgot them."
Todd rushed to his door. He looked right and left, and over the way, and, in fact, everywhere, but no Charley was to be seen. The fact is, that Johanna, the moment she felt herself released from the shop, had darted over the way, and into the fruiterers, where she had found so friendly a welcome before, and all this was done in such a moment, that she was housed before Todd could get his shop-door open.
"Welcome!" said a voice.
She found it proceeded from the fruiterer's daughter, who had behaved so kindly to her.
Johanna burst into tears.
"What has happened?—what has happened?" cried the young girl.