"Turn to your right," she cried to the cabman. "Now to the left; now down that street. A bit bobby, are yer? No call to be. You look slippy! You're a bit of a soft, aint yer, cabby?"
The cabman chaffed Judith, and Judith chaffed him back. Judson, with his arms folded, sat as though he were a statue.
By and by they stopped at a street which led into a court called Paradise Court. It was in this awful court that the poor children had spent the night. Judith now sprang from the box and opened the door.
"Out you get, lydies," she said. "The butler can walk behind."
She swept her hand towards Judson as she spoke.
"You and me," she continued, turning to Miss Thompson, "and t'old nurse can keep together in front. We'll keep nurse atween us, being the most ancient of the party. There aint nought to fear. This night will have done 'em both a sight of good. They want to be shown how wicked they was when they left their comferable homes."
By and by the little party reached the house where the children had lodged, and very slowly they went upstairs. They reached the top landing, and here Judith with a vigorous kick pushed Christian's room door open. The sight within was not calculated to reassure either nurse or Miss Thompson. For Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Peters from below-stairs had evidently come to an amicable arrangement, and were now finishing the provisions left in the attic by the two children. Furthermore, the half-crown which Christian had laid on the table had been expended on beer and sausages. The sausages were frying on the fire, and the kettle was boiling.
Nothing could exceed the horror of this scene to poor Miss Thompson. As to nurse, she was now so fearfully anxious about Christian that she had no time to be alarmed or shocked on any other count.
"Where is my child—my darling?" she cried. "Where have you hidden her? Oh, you bad women, what have you done with my pet? Tell me at once."