"Then take my advice an' don't."

He resumed his shovelling, and Tilda watched him for a while.

"Nice dorg," said he, breaking off and throwing an affable nod towards
Godolphus who, having attracted no attention by flinging himself on the
grass with a lolling tongue and every appearance of fatigue, was now
filling up the time in quest of a flea. "No breed, but he has points.
Where did you pick him up?"

"He belongs to a show."

"Crystal Pallus?"

"And," pursued Tilda, "I was wonderin' if you'd look after him while I
step inside?"

She threw back her head, and the man whistled.

"You're a trustin' one, I must say!"

"You'd never be mean enough to make off with 'im, an' I won't believe it
of you," spoke up Tilda boldly.

"Eh? I wasn' talkin of the dorg," he explained. "I was meanin' the
Orph'nage. By all accounts 'tisn' so easy to get in--an' 'tis a sight
harder to get out."

"I've _got_ to get in," urged Tilda desperately.