her hand for the money; but before she could take it her husband awoke
with a snort.

"Drop that!" he growled, tumbling himself hastily off the bed, and Fan,
starting back in fear, stood still. He took the coppers roughly from her,
cursing her for being so long away, then taking his clay-pipe from the
mantelpiece and putting on his old hat, swung out of the room; but after
going a few steps he groped his way back and looked in again. "Go to bed,
Margy," he said. "Sorry I hit you, but 'tain't much, and we must give and
take, you know." And then with a nod and grin he shut the door and took
himself off.

Meanwhile Fan had gone to her corner and removed her old hat and kicked
off her muddy shoes, and now sat there watching her mother, who had
despondently settled in her chair again.

"Go to bed, Fan--it's late enough," she said.

Instead of obeying her the girl came and knelt down by her side, taking
one of her mother's listless hands in hers.

"Mother"--she spoke in a low tone, but with a strange eagerness in her
voice--"let's run away together and leave him."

"Don't talk nonsense, child! Where'd we go?"

"Oh, mother, let's go right away from London--right out into the country,
far as we can, where he'll never find us, where we can sit on the grass
under the trees and rest."