All this was quite unintelligible to Elsie, who knew nothing of rewards or police regulations. Only one thing she learnt, and that was that they were being sought for, and she hoped some one would find them. A slight misgiving crossed her mind as to whether the police could take her to prison for having run away; but this did not trouble her very much, for she felt sure that Mrs. MacDougall would never let any bad thing befall them, and no one else could have told the police to search.
"I suppose I should just get it if I was found in here," the girl said presently. "You won't go telling, I suppose; for if they thought I knew too much, they'd——" the sentence ended with a grimace and expressive shrug of the shoulders.
Again the girl held the jar to Duncan's parched lips. "I dursn't stay," she said, kindly; "but if you knock at this wall I shall hear, and I'll come if you want me. We're up at the top, so there's no one to pry down the stairs. He do seem real bad, poor little chap! but maybe he'll be better in the morning."
With these words she departed, locking the door after her; and Elsie somehow felt that, in spite of her rough looks and miserable appearance, she had found a friend.
CHAPTER XIII.—A DREADFUL NIGHT.
T
he pangs of hunger which Elsie was feeling pretty sharply were nothing compared to the pain of mind she was enduring; for although she was the child of poor people, and had lived all her life in a cottage, with plain fare and plenty to do, she had been accustomed to perfect cleanliness, and a good deal of simple comfort.
After a while she undressed herself, and crept into the not too clean bed with a feeling of disgust. It was so different from the coarse cotton sheets—bleached white as snow, and smelling sweet of the fresh, pure air—that covered her own little bed. The room, too, was hot, close, and stifling.
Still this was nothing to the fear she felt for Duncan, lying so ill and wretched in this miserable attic, without mother, or granny, or any one to see after him.
The candle burnt out, and they were left alone in the dark. There was no chance of sleeping, for Duncan tossed and plunged about, trying to find some cool resting-place for his fevered limbs. The moments dragged slowly away—so slowly that poor Elsie thought the dreadful night would never go.
About the middle of the night Duncan began to mutter rapidly to himself. He spoke so quickly and incoherently that Elsie could not make out what he was saying. She jumped out of bed, and felt about for the water, thinking he was asking for it. He drank some eagerly, and then went on chattering again.