mistake it. There's only an old woman, I b'lieve, besides the girl
and the dog. I'd better keep away, 'cause they knows me, leastways
the girl does, and--and the dog. If you'll hand over that six bob
now, I'll be getting home. I've got a good step to go yet."

Tom Smith agreed almost pleasantly. "Right you are," he said, diving
his hand into an inside pocket, "and, thank 'ee, I'll manage the
rest, and I'd better manage it alone. I don't want to draw my
friends into any trouble over it,--leastways not those that have done
me a good turn."

He fumbled for some time over the counting out of the money, but when
at last he had put it into Bob's hand, the latter turned abruptly
away, and with only a brief 'good-night' plunged hurriedly down the
dark lane.

"Good-night," said Bob, "and thank 'ee. Three florins isn't it?"
But Tom Smith was out of sight, and Bob was glad to hurry away too,
as fast as his legs could take him. He did not feel altogether
pleased, though he did try to cheer himself by chinking his money in
his pocket, and planning how he would spend it. All the way he went
he seemed to see again Huldah's pained, sorrowful face, as she knelt
in the road beside her dog, and tried to shelter him with her own
body. How she must love the ugly yellow creature, and how he loved
her! and how they would feel it, if they were parted. What a life
they'd lead, if they had to go back to the van and that ill-tempered,
grumbling pair!

"I couldn't wish anybody any worse harm than to have to live with
that fellow," he muttered to himself. "'Tis a poor look-out for 'em,