sang Phil. "West!" he exclaimed, as it sailed lazily across the alley
and over a high board fence. "That means that we are to go down toward
the cotton-mills. I don't know much about that part of town. Mostly
poor people live there, who look as if they hadn't much money to give
away. But we'll try it, anyhow."

Picking up the barrow-handles, he trundled down the alley toward Pine
Street, with little Elsie holding fast to the tail of his tattered
jacket. We were off at last, to seek our fortunes in the wide, wide
world, and our hearts were light as we followed the feather.




CHAPTER VI.

WHAT DAGO SAID TO THE MIRROR-MONKEY ON SATURDAY.


Such a day as that was! We enjoyed it at first, for the sun shone and
a crowd of dancing children followed us everywhere we went. We were in
a strange part of town, so no one recognised us, but more than one
woman looked sharply at little Elsie's embroidered ruffles, peeping
out below the old gingham dress, and at Phil's squeaky new shoes.

"Have you run away, honey, or did your mammy dress you up that way and
send you out to beg?" asked a pleasant-voiced woman, with a baby in
her arms, as she leaned over a gate to drop a penny in Elsie's cup.
Elsie gave a startled glance at Phil, not knowing what to say, and