She took two basins of soup,
and two hunches of bread herself. But though Maurice and Cecile
wished very much for more, Cecile--even though it was to be paid for
with their own money--felt too timid to ask again, and the strange
girl appeared to think it impossible they could want more than one
supply.
"I'm off now," she said to Cecile, coming up to her and wiping her
mouth.
"Yes; but where are we to meet you for the lodging?" asked the
little girl anxiously--"Maurice is _so_ tired--and you promised
to show us. Where shall we get the lodging for the night?"
The girl gave a loud rude laugh.
"'Tis in Dean Street," she said. "Dean Street's just round the
corner--'tis number twenty. I'll turn up if I ha' money."
"But you said we could not get in without you," said Cecile.
"Well, what a bother you ere! I'll turn up if I can. You be there at
the door, and if I can I'll be there too." Then she nodded violently,
and darted out of the shop.
Cecile wondered why she was in such a hurry to go, and at the change
in her manner, but she understood it a little better when she saw
that the ragged girl had so arranged matters that Cecile had to pay
for all the dinners!
"I won't never trust ragged girls like that again," was her wise
mental comment; and then she, Maurice, and Toby recommenced their
weary walking up and down. Their dinner had once more rested and
refreshed them, and Cecile hoped they might yet find the old court in
Bloomsbury.
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