“Oh, as to that, you know, I don’t know that they are poor. Only I feel sort o’ sorry for ’em, somehow, and I’m awful anxious to see a real live fairy, even though she is ill.”
“When are you going?” inquired Mrs Willders.
“To-morrow night, on my way home.”
“Did you look in at Frank’s lodging in passing to-night?”
“Yes, I did, and found that he was in the station on duty again. It wasn’t a bad sprain, you see, an’ it’ll teach him not to go jumpin’ out of a first-floor window again.”
“He couldn’t help it,” said the widow. “You know his escape by the stair had been cut off, and there was no other way left.”
“No other way!” cried Willie; “why didn’t he drop? He’s so proud of his strength, is Blazes, that he jumped off-hand a’ purpose to show it! Ha! he’d be the better of some o’ my caution. Now, mother, I’m off to bed.”
“Get the Bible, then,” said Mrs Willders.
Willie got up and fetched a large old family Bible from a shelf, and laid it on the table before his mother, who read a chapter and prayed with her son; after which Willie gave her one of his “roystering” kisses and went to bed.
The lamps had been lighted for some time next night, and the shop-windows were pouring forth their bright rays, making the streets appear as light as day, when Willie found himself in the small disreputable street near London Bridge in which Cattley the clown dwelt.