little, dark, narrow streets and places, until at last, just as George
thought they must be pretty near 'ome, she began to dab her eyes with 'er
pocket-'andkerchief and say she'd lost 'er way.

"You two go 'ome and leave me," she ses, arf crying. "I can't walk
another step."

"Where are we?" ses George, looking round.

"I don't know," ses Gerty. "I couldn't tell you if you paid me. I must
'ave taken a wrong turning. Oh, hurrah! Here's a cab!"

Afore George could stop 'er she held up 'er umbrella, and a 'ansom cab,
with bells on its horse, crossed the road and pulled up in front of 'em.
Ted nipped in first and Gerty followed 'im.

"Tell 'im the address, dear, and make 'aste and get in," ses Gerty.

George told the cabman, and then he got in and sat on Ted's knee, partly
on Gerty's umbrella, and mostly on nothing.

"You are good to me, George," ses Gerty, touching the back of 'is neck
with the brim of her hat. "It ain't often I get a ride in a cab. All
the time I was keeping company with Bob we never 'ad one once. I only
wish I'd got the money to pay for it."

George, who was going to ask a question, stopped 'imself, and then he
kept striking matches and trying to read all about cab fares on a bill in
front of 'im.