"Good-bye," he said; "you _are_ good. I do love you." The lady went away
very pleased.

When Markham came with the milk Dickie said, "You want me gone, don't
you?"

Markham said she didn't care.

"Well, but how am I to get away--with my crutch?"

"Mean to say you'd cut and run if you was the same as me--about the
legs, I mean?"

"Yes," said Dickie.

"And not nick anything?"

"Not a bloomin' thing," said he.

"Well," said Markham, "you've got a spirit, I will say that."

"You see," said Dickie, "I wants to get back to farver."

"Bless the child," said Markham, quite affected by this.

"Why don't you help me get out? Once I was outside the park I'd do all
right."

"Much as my place is worth," said Markham; "don't you say another word
getting me into trouble."

But Dickie said a good many other words, and fell asleep quite satisfied
with the last words that had fallen from Markham. These words were:
"We'll see."

It was only just daylight when Markham woke him. She dressed him
hurriedly, and carried him and his crutch down the back stairs and into
that very butler's pantry through whose window he had crept at the
bidding of the red-haired man. No one else seemed to be about.

"Now," she said, "the gardener he has got a few hampers ready--fruit and
flowers and the like--and he drives 'em to the station 'fore any one's
up. They'd only go to waste if 'e wasn't to sell 'em. See? An' he's a
particular friend of mine; and he won't mind an extry hamper more or
less. So out with you. Joe," she whispered, "you there?"

Joe, outside, whispered that he was. And Markham lifted Dickie to the
window. As she did so she kissed him.

"Cheer-oh, old chap!" she said. "I'm sorry I was so short. An' you do
want to get out of it, don't you?"

"No error," said Dickie; "an' I'll never split about him selling the
vegetables and things."

"You're too sharp to live," Markham declared; and next moment he was
through the window, and Joe was laying him in a long hamper half-filled
with straw that stood waiting.

"I'll put you in the van along with the other hampers," whispered Joe as
he shut the lid. "Then when you're in the train you just cut the string
with this 'ere little knife I'll make you a present of and out you gets.
I'll make it all right with the guard. He knows me. And he'll put you
down at whatever station you say."

"Here, don't forget 'is breakfast," said Markham, reaching her arm
through the window. It was a