"Oh, haven't I?" said Rose. "There's nothing daunts me when I'm put to it. Mother says I'm the very naughtiest little girl she ever come across. She threatens perhaps I'll get ugly, just because I'm so desperate naughty. She says that sometimes when you are so mad with spirits, and so desperately fond of yourself, you fall ill with smallpox and that sort of thing. I don't believe it, of course, but she does hold it over me. She seems as sure that I'll take smallpox as that I'll have a cold. It's queer, isn't it?"
"It's silly, I call it," said Christian. "Now then, Rose, don't let's talk any more about that. If you have got spirit, so have I. Suppose, now, that I don't go to that school."
"How will you manage that?" said Rose
"Did you ever hear of a girl running away?" asked Christian. "That's the thought that has come to me. I thought that if you and I were together we could run away. We could support ourselves, I suppose."
"Not without money," said the practical Rose. "It's a lovely thought—the most daring and truly delicious thought I ever heard of—but it wants money."
"I've got seven pounds," said Christian. "Ever since I was a little, tiny girl my godmother has sent me a pound on my birthday, and I haven't spent any of the money. How far would seven pounds go?"
"Oh! a long way; it's a heap of money," said Rose. "Why, it's one hundred and forty shillings. That's an awful lot."
"Yes, I thought it was," said Christian. "I remembered the money the very moment mother talked about not letting me know until the night before. I shall listen, of course, when she does speak, and I will pretend to be good and submit. Perhaps she will be so sorry for me that she will give me some more pocket money. I hope she will. But what I really mean to do is to slip away somewhere with you, Rosy—to go to some place with you where we can live together. Have you got any money of your own?"
"A shilling," replied Rose sadly. "I took a long time to save it up. Had you died, Miss Christian, I would have spent it on flowers for your grave; so now I will spend it in running away with you—that I will."
"You can't do more, Rosy," said Christian. "Well, we must make our plans, and we must not tell one single human being. We have got to consider how we can live in the very cheapest way, for one hundred and forty shillings will not go far. I suppose they will send the police after us. Isn't it splendid, Rosy? Can you really believe that two young ordinary girls are going to do such a desperate thing?"