But when by and by the boy was removed to the hospital, and quiet reigned once again in the family, Judith remembered the advertisement and what it might mean for her. It was too late that night to go to see Miss Thompson, but early the next morning—soon after eight o'clock—a stoutly built girl might have been seen mounting the steps of the great house in Russell Square.
"I am Judith Ford," she said to the butler, "and I want a lydy of the name of Thompson. You stir yourself now and bring her down to me. You think nought of me, no doubt, but I've got that which you'd give your eyes for. Hurry up and get the lydy down, for I'm the person she's a-wanting to see."
The butler looked indignant, but as Judith did not mind this in the least, and as her face expressed a good deal of resolution, and wore also a most knowing air, he decided to admit her.
Whatever he said to Miss Thompson brought that lady, and also nurse, down very quickly.
"I know where the two children are," said Judith. "I know it for the best of good reasons, because I was with 'em, poor dears! I warned 'em all I could not to do it, but they wouldn't listen to me. They're in quite a respectable place, and I meant to come straight and tell you last night, but my brother Joe nearly died from a fall from a ladder. I can take you to the children, and I will. What is the money you are going to give me? I want a good lot. No one else can find them, but I can."
"We'll give you five pounds," said Miss Thompson. "Be quick; there isn't an instant to lose. Judson, please call a four-wheeler."
But Judith planted her feet firmly on the rug.
"'Taint to be done," she said. "I won't go for no five pounds. I want ten—not a penny less. Why, I could get more than that from Miss Christian; aint she got it in a little bag under her skirt?"
"Oh, the darling!" cried nurse, nearly bursting into tears. "And didn't I make the bag, and tell her how to wear it, and——"