And she disappeared down the ladder into her cellar. Flo went back also to hers and resumed her work. She had a great deal to do, for that evening she, and Dick, and Jenks, were to start on foot for the Derby. Jenks went every year as long as he could remember, but Dick and Flo had never been.
They had heard of it of course, as what London child has not? and were much excited at the prospect of at last joining the great and vast army of tramps who year by year find their way to Epsom Downs.
Jenks assured them, too, that money honestly come by was made wholesale at the Derby. Money come to you almost for the asking; sixpences were changed into sovereigns by some magic art at that wonderful place. The children were not going empty-handed. Flo was to be a “little-doll” girl.
Some dozens of these bought for twopence a dozen were to be sold to-morrow for a penny a-piece, or perhaps for more.
Flo counted how much she could make on her six dozen of dolls, and quite expected to realise a sum that would make things comfortable in the cellar for some weeks.
Dick was to sell fusees, and Jenks was to appear on the scenes in the character of a boot-cleaning boy, balancing a black-box and brushes on his head, and Scamp was to stay at home and keep house.
Flo had proposed his coming with them, but to this the boys objected, and she, considering she would have more than enough use for her legs, hands, voice, and eyes, and might find Scamp an extra care, did not grieve much over their decision.
What walking she would have, all the way from London to Epsom Downs; what use for her hands in holding her tray of dolls for so many hours; what use for her voice in advertising her property, in properly proclaiming the value of her property, and endeavouring to attract the gents with white hats, who were fond of wearing such goods in their button-holes, or stuck in a row round their head gear; above all, and this was the pleasant part, what use for her eyes!
Right and left, before and behind, pretty things would surround her, and Flo did so love pretty things.
It would be a grander sight than Regent Street, or Swan and Edgar’s, grander, because the fine ladies, and the smart dresses, and the lovely spirited horses would be there in such much vaster numbers!