For one instant she looked towards the window. It was like looking out of prison. Even the roofs, so close at hand, seemed to her at that moment the land of the free. But it was true she had often acted before, and she could and would act for dear life now. So she fell on her knees and began to build up the fire. How badly she did it! Judith roared with laughter, and dropping down by her side, began to give directions. Presently Rosy pulled them both aside and lit the fire herself. She was quite an adept at this sort of thing. For a wonder the chimney did not smoke, and the sight of crackling wood and cheerful blaze brought the first moment of comfort to poor Christian's heart. When the fire was lit the dirty table was laid with the plates and cups and saucers, and pewter spoons, and ugly black-handled knives. Judith thought they were very fine, but Christian, if she had not been acting a part, would have found it impossible to have eaten with them or on them.
But the tea was fairly good, and it was made in the tiny little brown teapot; and the herrings were put on the pan to fry. Mrs. Carter, attracted by the excellent smell, popped her nose in at the door.
"My word!" she said, "here's comfort; here's dainties; here's a real feast. Would a poor neighbor who has scarcely tasted a morsel all day be welcome, or would she be unwelcome? You say the word, miss—welcome or unwelcome—the truth, miss, and nothing but the truth."
Rosy gave Christian an anxious glance. Christian, still forcing herself to continue her play-acting, replied in a hearty tone:
"Of course you are welcome."
"Then do, like a good creature," suddenly exclaimed Judith, who by no means wished the feast to be shared by anyone else, "go and take out those curlers. Oh, I know they are Hinde's, but take 'em out—take 'em out—and come in looking like a decent, civilized 'uman being."
Mrs. Carter hastened to comply, and soon the four, on two chairs, were seated round the board. Rosy shared half of Christian's chair, and Judith and Mrs. Carter, pushing each other violently from time to time, subsided on the other. It cracked under their joint weight. Mrs. Carter said that if they were unlucky enough to break it, the landlord would charge Christian the full price of a new chair.
"He'd do nothing of the sort," said Judith. "Why should he, I should like to know? This one is as old as the hills, and didn't cost more than one and elevenpence when it was new."
She had scarcely uttered the words when crash, crack went the chair, and the two were prostrated on the ground.
They got up amidst peals of laughter. Mrs. Carter assured Christian that the chair cost seven and sixpence, but that she'd make it good with the landlord for half-a-crown if Christian would entrust her with that sum.