"Oh dear! oh dear!" said Charlotte. "And you got me such good things!"
"Ah! that was different," Beth rejoined.
Charlotte stole downstairs. Her father had been out seeing his patients all day, and had not troubled about her.
She returned with chicken and ham, cold apple-tart and cream, and a little jug of cider.
Poor Beth, accustomed to the most uninteresting food, and not enough of that, was so exhausted by her long fast and arduous labours, that she found it difficult to restrain her tears at the sight of such good things. She ate and drank with seemly self-restraint, however; it would have lowered her much in her own estimation if she had showed any sign of the voracity she felt.
Then the watch began. Having wrapped themselves up in their walking things to be ready for any emergency, they locked the door and opened the window softly. They were in a room at the top of the house, which, being next door to the Benyons, commanded the same extensive view down the front street and a bit of Rock Street and the back street, and up Orchard Street on the left to the church. They were watching for a sailor in a smart yachting suit, a man-of-war's man with bare feet, and a priest in a heavy black cloak. Beth, greatly refreshed and stimulated by her supper and the cider, fell into her most fascinating mood; and Charlotte listened enthralled to wonderful descriptions of places she had visited with Hector, sights she had seen, and events she had taken part in.
"But how is it you are not missed from home when you go away like that?" said Charlotte.
"How is it I am not missed to-night?" Beth answered. "When you are fully initiated into the Secret Service of Humanity you will find that things happen in a way you would never suspect."
"I suppose it is all right and proper being so much alone with single gentlemen," Charlotte just ventured.
"All things are right and proper so long as you do nothing wrong," Beth answered sententiously.