As Rosy said the last words she began to hum in a high, excited, staccato voice:
"For Britons never, never, never shall be slaves."
Judith burst into the room. She carried a heap of parcels and a sack full of coal.
"If this aint love!" she said. "If this aint, so to speak, the height of devotion! Now then, look spry, both of you."
"Oh, yes," said Rosy, bursting into a loud and apparently delighted laugh, "you are good. Now we'll have fun. Bustle up, Miss Christian; take off your hat and jacket. See, aint I thoughtful? I brought a little apron for you in my pocket. You slip it on; deary miss, and then you won't spoil your nice things."
"What do it matter if she spoils her things or not?" cried Judith. "She can't go on dressing in that fashion; she'd be nabbed at once. The police would bustle round her just like birds round a strange bird. She'll have to dress like the poor folks. The best thing is to pawn her dress, and get her one of them thick woolen sort like the tambourine-girls wear from the pawn-shop."
"That's the right thought, Miss Christian, aint it?" said Rosy. "And you'll be sure to get a good price for such solid clothes as you wear. I could go out now and pawn them."
"No you don't!" said Judith. "If there's any pawning to be done, I do it. And you needn't think for a moment that your Miss Christian—your fine, guarded young lady, who'd get finely punished by the law of the land were it known what she'd done—would get much for her clothes. It's very, very little she'll get; although, of course, I'll do my best for her."
"Oh, I am so hungry!" said Christian, making a valiant effort to speak naturally.