mother's lonely figure on the sofa backed by the bare window and the
great moor.

"Does she hate him as much as that?"

"Oh, I hate jokes about Heaven and Hell. They're so obvious," Helen
said.

"If they weren't, you wouldn't see them, my dear."

Helen let that pass, but trouble looked from her eyes and sounded in her
voice. "She wanted to see him and she was afraid, and no one should ever
be afraid. It's ugly."

"Perhaps," Miriam said hopefully, "he will be ill for a very long time,
and then she'll have to stay with him, and we can have fun. Fun! Where
can we get it? What right had she to bring us here?"

"For God's sake," John said, "don't begin that again. We're warm and fed
and roofed, and it's raining outside, and we needn't stir. That ought to
make you thankful for your mercies. Suppose you were a tramp."

"Yes, suppose I was a tramp." She clasped her knees and forgot her anger
in this make-believe. "A young tramp. Just like me, but ragged."

"Cold and wet."

"My hair would still be curly and my face would be very brown."

"You'd be dirty," Helen reminded her, "and your boots would be crumpled
and too big and sodden." She looked at her own slim feet. "That is what
I should hate."

"Of course there'd be disadvantages, but if I were a tramp and dwelt on
my mercies, what would they be? First--freedom!"

"Ha!" John snorted.

"Well?"

"Freedom! Where is it?"

"With the lady tramp."

"And what is it?"

"Being able to do what you like," Miriam said promptly, "and having no
Notya."

John was trying to look patient. "Very well. Let us consider that."

"Yes, grandpapa," Miriam answered meekly, and tweaked Helen's toe.

"You think the tramp can do what she likes, but she has no money in her
pocket, so she can't buy the comfortable bed and the good meal she is
longing for. She can only go to the first workhouse or sell herself for
the price of a glass of gin."

"A pretty tramp like me," Miriam began, and stopped at Helen's pleading.
"But John and I are facing facts, so you must not be squeamish. When you
come to think of it," she went on, "lady tramps generally have gentlemen
tramps with them."

"And there's your Notya."

"Ah!"

"And he'd beat you."

"I might like it."

"And he'd be foul-mouthed."

"Horrid!" Helen exclaimed.

"But I should be used to nothing else."

"And if you came down our high road one day and begged at our door, and
saw some one like yourself, some one clean and fr