Suddenly she held him farther away from her, and looked strangely into his face.
'What is your name?' she asked.
'James—Orchardson—Sinclair—Wilmot,' said Jimmy with a gape between the words.
Then she pressed him closer still, and kissed his face again and again, and for once Jimmy rather liked being kissed. Perhaps it was because he had felt so tired and lonely; but whatever the reason may have been, he did not try to draw away, but nestled down in her arms and felt more comfortable than he had felt for ever so long.
It was not long before the landlady came back with a plate of hot soup, and Jimmy sat in a chair by the table and the lady broke some bread and dipped it in, and Jimmy almost fell asleep as he fed himself. Still he enjoyed the soup, and when it was finished she took him up in her arms and carried him to another room where there were two beds. She stood Jimmy down, and he leaned against the smaller bed with his eyes shut whilst she took off the clown's dress, and the last thing he recollected was her face very close to his own before he fell sound asleep.
CHAPTER XIII
THE LAST
It was quite late when Jimmy opened his eyes the next morning, and a few minutes afterwards he was sitting up in bed, wondering how much he had dreamed and how much was real.
Had he actually got into the wrong train, and run away from a policeman, and travelled in the van, and put on the little clown's clothes, and then run away again? Had he really done all these strange things or had he only dreamed them? But if he had dreamed them, where was he? And if they were real, where had the clown's dress gone to?