True was so excited that he did not notice what the Sexton had observed. Gerty had risen from her bed and was standing beside True, her eyes fixed upon his face, breathless with the interest she felt in his words. She touched his shoulder; he looked round, saw her, and stretched out his arms. She sprang into them, buried her face in his bosom, and, bursting into tears, exclaimed, "Shall I stay with you always?"
"Yes, just as long as I live," said True, "you shall be my child."
CHAPTER IV.
FIRST STEPS TO IMPROVEMENT.
It was a stormy evening. Gerty was standing at the window, watching for True's returning from his lamplighting. She was neatly dressed, her hair smooth, her face and hands clean. She was now quite well—better than for years before her sickness; a pale, slender-looking child, with eyes and mouth disproportionately large to her other features; her look of suffering had given place to a happy though rather grave expression. On the wide window-sill in front of her sat a plump and venerable cat, parent to Gerty's lost darling, and for that reason very dear to her; she was quietly stroking its back, while the constant purring that the old veteran kept up proved her satisfaction at the arrangement.
Suddenly a rumbling, tumbling sound was heard in the wall. The house was old, and furnished with ample accommodation for rats. One would have thought a chimney was falling brick by brick. But it did not alarm Gerty; she was used to rat-inhabited walls, and accustomed to hearing such sounds all her life, when she slept in the garret at Nan Grant's. Not so, however, with the ancient grimalkin, who pricked up her ears, and gave every sign of a disposition to rush into battle.
Gerty glanced round the room with an air of satisfaction; then, clambering upon the window-sill, where she could see the lamplighter as he entered the gate, she took the cat in her arms, smoothed her dress, and gave a look of pride at her shoes and stockings, and strove to become patient. But it would not do; she could not be patient; it seemed to her that he never came so late before, and she was beginning to think he never would come at all, when he turned into the gate. He had brought some person with him. He did not look tall enough to be Mr. Cooper, but she concluded it must be he, for whoever it was stopped at his door further up the yard and went it. Impatient as Gerty had been for True's arrival, she did not run to meet him as usual, but waited until she heard him come in through the shed, where he was in the habit of stopping to hang up his ladder and lantern. She then ran and hid behind the door by which he must enter the room. She evidently had some great surprise in store for him. The cat was more mindful of her manners, and went to meet him, rubbing her head against his legs, which was her customary welcome.
"Hollo, whiskers," said True, "where's my little gal?"
He shut the door behind him as he spoke, thus disclosing Gerty to view. She sprang forward with a bound, laughed, and looked first at her own clothes and then in True's face, to see what he would think of her appearance.