first of all at eating-houses, but no one wanted me. It
was nearly dark, and I hadn't tasted anything. Then I begged of one or
two people--I forgot everything but my hunger--and they gave me a few
coppers. I bought some bread, and still wandered about. There are some
streets into which I can never bear to go now; the thought of walking
about them eight years ago is too terrible to me. Well, I walked till
midnight, and then could stand up no longer. I found myself in a dirty
little street where the house doors stood open all night; I went into
one, and walked up as far as the first landing, and there fell down in
a corner and slept all night."

"Poor child!" said Waymark, looking into her face, which had become
very animated as the details of the story succeeded each other in her
mind.

"I must have looked a terrible little savage on that next morning," Ida
went on, smiling sadly. "Oh, how hungry I was! I was awoke by a woman
who came out of one of the rooms, and I asked her if she'd give me
something to eat. She said she would, if I'd light her fire for her,
and clean up the grate. I did this, gladly enough. Then she pretended I
had done it badly, and gave me one miserable little dry crust, and told
me to be off. Well, that day I found another woman who said she'd give
me one meal and twopence a day for helping her to chop wood and wash
vegetables; she had a son who was a costermonger, and the stuff he sold
had to be cleaned each day. I took the work gladly. She never asked me
where I spent the night; the truth was I chose a different house each
night, where I found the door open, and went up and slept on the
stairs. I often found several people doing the same thing, and no one
disturbed us.

"I lived so for a fortnight, then I was lucky enough to get into
another eating-house. I lived there nearly two months, and had to leave
for the very same reason as at the first place. I only half understood
the meaning of what I had to resist, but my resistance led to other
unbearable cruelties, and again I ran away. I went about eight o'clock
in the evening. The thought of going back to my old sleeping places on
the stairs was horrible. Besides, for some days a strange idea had been
in my head. I had not forgotten my friend Jane, and I wondered whether,
if I went to Tottenham, it would be possible to find her. Perhaps she
might be well off there, and could help me. I had made inquiries about
the way to Tottenham, and the dist