Pickles stayed in until noon; then he also went out. He had cheered himself until this hour with the hope that Sue had only gone out for a walk. Notwithstanding all the improbabilities of his poor, frightened Cinderella venturing to show herself in the street, he had clung firmly to this idea; but when the neighboring clock struck twelve he was obliged to abandon it. He was obliged to admit to his own little puzzled heart that it was on no ordinary walk that Sue had gone. Remorse now seized him in full measure. He could not bear the house; he must vent his feelings in exercise. For the first time in his sunny and healthy young life he walked along the streets a defeated and unhappy boy.

Suddenly, however, a thought occurred to him. He stood still when it flashed across his fertile brain. Then, with a cheerful shout, which caused the pa.s.sers-by to turn their heads and smile, he set off running as fast as his feet would carry him.

Hope would never be long absent from his horizon, and once again he was following it joyfully.

He was on his way now to Harris's house. He meant to pay pretty Connie a visit, and when with her he would put to her a pointed question.

It was nearly three o'clock when he reached Westminster. A few minutes later he found himself on the landing outside Connie's rooms. Here, however, he was again a little puzzled, for he wanted to see Connie and not to see Giles. Taking a long time about it, he managed to set the closed door ajar. He looked in. Connie and Giles were both within.

Connie was mending her father's socks; Giles was reading aloud to her.

Neither of them had noticed the slight creaking noise he had made in opening the door. He ventured on a very slight cough.

This sound was heard; the reading ceased.

"Come in," said Connie.

This he must not do. He waited an instant, then creaked the door again.

"Dear, dear! I made certain I had shut that door," said Connie.

At this she rose unsuspiciously. "Jest wait a minute, Giles dear. I didn't catch that last bit."

She ran to the door to put it to. Pickles placed his foot in her way.

The obstacle caused her to look into the pa.s.sage. There a boy, very red by nature, and with his natural color now much intensified by hard running, stood awaiting her.

He pointed to the door, put his finger to his lips, then rushed down the first flight of stairs, where he turned round, and beckoned to her to follow him.

"I'll be back in a minute, Giles," said Connie. She had ready wit enough to perceive at a glance that Pickles had something to say to her which he did not wish Giles to hear.

Closing the door behind her, she ran downstairs. Pickles could have hugged her in his grat.i.tude.

"Ain't you a perfect duck of a darlin'?" he said, gazing hard and full into her face.

"What do you want me for, Pickles?" asked Connie.

"Fur one or two things of much private importance. First, tell me, how is the little lame chap as is fretting fur his sister wot is kept in the country?"

"He is not so well, Pickles; he is not so well as he was. Pickles, I don't believe that story about Sue being in the country."

"You don't believe me when I opens my lips to give utterance to the words of gospel truth!" replied Pickles. But his red face grew a shade redder, and his full, bold gaze was not quite so steady as usual. "Why, surely, Pickles, _you_ ain't going to be troubled wid nerves!" he said to himself.

Connie, watching anxiously, entreated in her softest tones: "Dear Pickles, you might trust me. I should like to know, and I won't tell Giles."

"Ay, ay, that's a woman's curiosity; but the misfortune is as it can't be gratified. No, Connie. You are as rare and pretty a bit of woman as hiver I clapped heyes on. But fur hall that you ain't going to come hover this yere boy. When I tells you, Connie, that Sue is hin the country, please believe as she _his_ in that year health-giving place.

When 'tis conwenient fur me to confide in you farther, why, I'll do it.

That time ain't at present. In the meantime, ef you want to real help them who ere in difficulty, you will let me know widout any more wasting o' precious time where yer father, Peter Harris, is working to-day."

"Oh Pickles! wot do you want wid him?"

"Nothink to hurt you, pretty one. Now, will you speak?

"He's at Messrs ---- in ---- Street," replied Connie.

"Thank yer; and now I'm off. Ef you'll listen to the words o' solemn wisdom, and be guided in that same, you'll not mention this stolen interview to little Giles--bless the little chap! You keep up his heart, Connie. As soon as hiver this yer young man can manage it, Sue shall come home. Lor', now! ain't the world strange and difficult to live in?

Wot 'ull bring joy to one 'ull give pain to t'other, but the cause o'

right must win the day. Well, good-bye, Connie. I'll wery like look in soon again."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

PICKLES TO THE FORE AGAIN.

Connie went back to Giles, and Pickles, having obtained the information which he desired, sped as fast as his feet could carry him down the street. Once more his spirits were high, and hope was before him.

"I may save you, you most obstinate and tiresome Cinderella," he said to himself. "But oh, _wot_ a mistake gels are! Why hever those weak and misguided beings was allowed to be is a puzzlement too great fur me."

But though Pickles talked even to himself in this light and careless vein, there was (and he knew it) a pain in his heart--a pain joined to an admiration for Sue, which would have made him willing to fight to the very death in her behalf.

The day, however, had been spent while he was rushing about, and by the time he reached the place where Connie had directed him to seek her father, the workmen were putting by their tools and preparing to go home.

Pickles followed Harris down the street. Harris was talking to and walking with one of his fellow-workmen, and Pickles did not care to accost him except when he was alone.

At the corner, however, of the next street the two parted; and then the boy, putting his face into grave and serious order, ran lightly after Harris. When he addressed him his very voice trembled.

"Mr. Harris, I see'd you coming out of that yer shop. I'm in much perplexity and trouble in my mind, and I thought the sight of you and a talk wid you might maybe set me up."

"You thought wrong, then," said Harris, replying in his gruffest voice, "for I'm in a mortal bit of a hurry, and I'm in no humor to listen to no chaff, so get away."

"Oh, Mr. Harris! I'll endeavor to run by yer side for a minute or two.

Mr. Harris, wot does yer think? That little Sue wot I tolled yer on--why, she has discovered who the guilty party is. She have found out who really stole the locket and put it into her pocket."

"She have!" said Harris. He was so astonished and taken by surprise that he now stood still. He stood quite still, gazing helplessly at Pickles, while his weather-beaten face grew pale.

"'Tis gospel truth as I'm telling yer," continued Pickles, fixing his own light-blue eyes full on his victim. "Sue knows hall about it--the whole thing; the great and awful meanness have been made plain to her.

Yes, she knows all, Sue does; but, Mr. Harris----"

"Yes; wot have I to say to this tale? I'm in a hurry--tearing hurry--I tell yer."

"Yes, Mr. Harris; I won't keep yer. Sue knows, but Sue, she won't betray. I know who did it," she said, "but I won't tell on him. He lent me a shilling once. He is kind to my little brother wot is lame. I know wot he did, but I won't never tell, I'll go to prison 'stead of he."

Harris's color had returned. He now walked so fast that Pickles had to run to keep up with him. Suddenly, seeing a pa.s.sing omnibus, he hailed it, and in a second was on the roof. He did not glance at Pickles. In reply to his tale he had not answered by a single word.

CHAPTER x.x.xV.