Then Matilda-Jane gave vent to another exclamation.
"Bless me, missy, it's you!" she cried. "Whatever are you a-doing of to be out in the rain all alone, with no 'at and a humbrella four sizes too big for the likes of you, and them paper-soled things on yer feet? and, oh my! ain't yer frock muddy? What'll your folk say to you? Or is they all away and left you and the cat to keep 'ouse?"
"I was running after you, Brown Smiley," sobbed Peggy. She could not quite make out if Matilda-Jane was making fun of her or not, and, indeed, to do Matilda justice, she had no such intention. "I was running after you," Peggy repeated, "and you wouldn't stop, and I couldn't run fast 'cos of the numbrella, and so I felled down."
"Never mind, missy dear, you'll be none the worse, you'll see. Only, will they give it you when you go home for dirtying of your frock?"
"Give it me?" repeated Peggy.
"Yes, give it you; will you get it—will you catch it?" said Matilda, impatiently.
"I don't know what you mean," Peggy replied.
Matilda wasted no more words on her. She took her by the arm, umbrella and all, and trotted her down the street again till they had reached the Smiley mansion. Then she drew Peggy inside the doorway of the passage, whence a stair led up to Mrs. Whelan's, and to the Simpkins's own rooms above that again, and having shut up the umbrella with such perfect ease that Peggy gazed at her in admiration, she tried to explain her meaning.
"Look 'ere now, miss;" she said, "which'll you do—go straight over-the-way 'ome, just as you are, or come in along of huz and get yerself cleaned up a bit?"