"Where are you, old chap?"
"It's my master," said Mr. Riah, hurrying away.
"His master!" repeated Lizzie, in surprise.
Jenny nodded her head, and looked vexed.
"Godmother's poor," said she, "but a good fairy for all that. This ain't his place, and these ain't his things I buy. He works for somebody else, just as we do, and somebody else gets the most of him, just as they get the most of us, Lizzie-Mizzie-Wizzie. Never saw the man, but I suspect he's a beast."
"Sh! they're coming," said Lizzie.
The old man, followed by a young slim man with a thin foxy face, came out upon the roof. Lizzie rose, with her book in her hand.
"I can't get up, whoever you are," said Jenny, promptly, "because my back's bad and my legs are queer."
"This is my master, Mr. Fledgeby," said Mr. Riah, as he came forward.
"Don't look like anybody's master," exclaimed Jenny.