be relied on.

Amelius tried to lead her to other recollections. He asked her how old
she was when she played the fiddle.

"I don't know," she answered; "I don't know how old I am now. I don't
remember anything before the fiddle. I can't call to mind how long it
was first--but there came a time when the old man and his wife got into
trouble. They went to prison, and I never saw them afterwards. I ran
away with the fiddle; to get the halfpence, you know, all to myself. I
think I should have got a deal of money, if it hadn't been for the boys.
They're so cruel, the boys are. They broke my fiddle. I tried selling
pencils after that; but people didn't seem to want pencils. They
found me out begging. I got took up, and brought before the
what-do-you-call-him--the gentleman who sits in a high place, you know,
behind a desk. Oh, but I was frightened, when they took me before the
gentleman! He looked very much puzzled. He says, 'Bring her up here;
she's so small I can hardly see her.' He says, 'Good God! what am I to
do with this unfortunate child?' There was plenty of people about. One
of them says, 'The workhouse ought to take her.' And a lady came in, and
she says, 'I'll take her, sir, if you'll let me.' And he knew her, and
he let her. She took me to a place they called a Refuge--for wandering
children, you know. It was very strict at the Refuge. They did give
us plenty to eat, to be sure, and they taught us lessons. They told us
about Our Father up in Heaven. I said a wrong thing--I said, 'I don't
want him up in Heaven; I want him down here.' They were very much
ashamed of me when I said that. I was a bad girl; I turned ungrateful.
After a time, I ran away. You see, it was so strict, and I was so used
to the streets. I met with a Scotchman in the streets. He wore a kilt,
and played the pipes; he taught me to dance, and dressed me up like a
Scotch girl. He had a curious wife, a sort of half-black woman. She used
to dance too--on a bit of carpet, you know, so as not to spoil her fine
shoes. They taught me songs; he taught me a Scotch song. And one day
his wife said _she_ was English (I don't know how that was, being
a half-black woman), and I should learn an English song. And they
quarrelled about it. And she had her way. She taught me 'Sally in our
Alley'. That's how I come to be called Sally. I hadn't any name of my
own--I always had nicknames. Sally was the last of them, and Sally has
stuck to me. I hope it isn't too com