with quickened pace, now and then muttering angrily.

"Serves me right!" she broke out at length. "Bill--you don't know Bill,
but 'e's the wisest man in the 'ole world, _an'_ the kindest, _an'_ the
bestest. Bill would 'a-slapped my ear if 'e 'd 'eard me jus' now.
Near upon gave the show away, I did, an' all through wantin' to 'ear
somebody else tell what I knew a'ready. Never let nobody else make sure
for you--that's one o' Bill's sayin's. Take warnin' by me, an' don't
you ever forget it, Arthur Miles."

The boy had not spoken all the way. He glanced at her timidly, and she
saw that he did not understand. Also it was plain that the streets,
with their traffic, puzzled him; at the approach of every passer-by he
would halt uncertainly, like a puppy not yet way-wise. By-and-by he
said--

"But if that's so, you must be my sister."

"I'm not," said Tilda sharply. "What put it into your 'ead?"

"You told the lady--" he began.

"Eh? So I did. But that was all flam." He could make nothing of this.
"I was kiddin' of 'er--tellin' what wasn' true," she explained.

He walked forward a few steps with a frown--not disapproving, but
painfully thinking this out.

"And about the Hospital--wasn't that true either?"