CHAPTER VIII.
Leaves us in the Street.
The going over the boat held them a long time, for Ellen's new friend took kind pains to explain to her whatever he thought he could make interesting; he was amused to find how far she pushed her inquiries into the how and the why of things. For the time her sorrows were almost forgotten.
"What shall we do now?" said he, when they had at last gone through the whole "would you like to go to your friends?"
"I haven't any friends on board, Sir," said Ellen, with a swelling heart.
"Haven't any friends on board! what do you mean? Are you alone?"
"No, Sir," said Ellen, "not exactly alone; my father put me in the care of a lady that is going to Thirlwall; but they are strangers and not friends."
"Are they _un_friends? I hope you don't think, Ellen, that strangers cannot be friends too?"
"No, indeed, Sir, I don't," said Ellen, looking up with a face that was fairly brilliant with its expression of gratitude and love. But, casting it down again, she added, "But they are not my friends, Sir."
"Well, then," he, said smiling, "will you come with me?"