She was not glad of the day she could read and pray, for that day had never come to her.
In her Duncan Street cellar, “the Board,” that object of terror, had never reached her, therefore she could not read—and pray?—she did not even know what “pray” meant.
Why did Janey go about singing such songs as nobody could understand?
Just then Jenks and Dick came rattling down the ladder crying noisily that it was full time to be off; and Flo had to bustle about, and pack her dolls, and put on her clean frock and wonderful bonnet, and finally, when she thought no one was looking, to stoop down and kiss Scamp on his forehead, in return for which he washed her face quite over again with his tongue. A basin of broken bread was set near the dog, then the children ran up the ladder, fastened down the door of the cellar, and set off.
“Will Maxey know which is hour cellar wid the door shut?” asked Dick.
This remark Flo could make nothing of, but she was too much excited then to ask an explanation.
It was eight o’clock when the children started, therefore the great heat was over. At first they walked alone, then two or three, going in the same direction, joined them, then half-a-dozen more, and so on, until they found themselves with quite a number of people all Epsom bound.
At first Flo did not like this, she would have much preferred to trudge along, away past hot and dismal London, with only Dick and Jenks for company, but after a time she saw the advantage of this arrangement, for she was unaccustomed to walking, and soon her little feet grew very, very weary, and then the good-natured cadgers and tramps turned out agreeable acquaintances. One woman kindly carried her tray of dolls, and some men with a large barrow of fried fish, taking pity on her weary little face, allowed her to have a seat on one corner of their great barrow, and in this way she got over many a mile. But the way was very long, and by the time the weary multitude had reached Epsom town it was nearly one in the morning.
No rest for them here, however; whether they wished it or not, whether they could pay for food and shelter or not, the vigilant police would allow no halt in the town, they must move on. So on they moved, until at last Flo and Dick and Jenks, with many other worn-out tramps, were very glad to huddle together against the walls of the Grand Stand, which, quiet enough now, would in a few hours blaze with such life and beauty.
The little girl was in a sound sleep, dreaming confused dreams, in which Janey’s songs, Scamp’s face, and the Epsom races were all mingled, when a hand laid on her shoulder roused her from her slumbers.