"It's a holiday, godmother," said Jenny, smiling at him, "and I've brought my Lizzie-Mizzie-Wizzie I've told you of, you know. Godmother's name's Riah," she added, turning to Lizzie.
The old man bowed very low to Lizzie, and helped Jenny over the sill.
"I've come for more waste," said Jenny, meaning the remnants of lace, ribbon, beads, and other finery, which with other odd things were on sale in the shop where this quiet old man was the clerk.
He led them into this shop at the back of the house, and when Jenny had picked out and paid for what she needed, she said,
"Now take us up to your garden, godmother. We've got all day, and there's some lunch, and Lizzie's going to read to me. Come."
The old man looked pleased, and went before them to the second floor, and then up a narrow flight of steps to a door in the roof. Pushing this door aside, he came down and carried Jenny up, and Lizzie followed.
As they came out upon the roof, a light cool wind caught up Jenny's bright hair, and Lizzie exclaimed, "How kind you are, Mr. Riah, to let us come up here!"
And it was a pleasant place.
An old canvas awning stretched between three of the chimneys made a nice shade, without shutting out the view on any side. A square of bright-colored carpet was spread on the roof under the awning; around the big blackened chimney a green creeper had been trained, and together with some boxes of evergreens and flowers made the place look and smell like a garden.
The girls sat down, and invited Mr. Riah to sit by them, and have some of the fruit and sandwiches they had brought. But just as he was about to do this, a thin, fretful voice called out from below,