" said Ronald. "You mean the street preacher."

"Yus," said Connie. "'E'll save us. There's no fear o' Mammy Warren
getting to us ever again ef he takes us in 'and."

Ronald smiled.

"The only thing I'm afraid of is this," he said--"that if it's true
about father, he may come here and find me gone."

"Let's leave a note for him," said Connie then. "Let's put it on the
table. If Mammy Warren should come back she'll find the note, but that
won't do any harm, for she knows Father John, and she's awful afeered of
him, 'cos she said as much, so she'd never follow us there."

"The very thing!" said Ronald. "Let's get some paper. Will you write the
note, Connie?"

The children poked round in the sitting-room, and found a sheet of very
thin paper, and an old pen, and a penny bottle of ink. Ronald dictated,
and Connie wrote:

"DEAR FATHER,--I've waited here for a week. I am trying to be very
brave. Connie's an awful nice girl. We've picked the lock here, father,
and we've gone to Father John, in Adam Street. Please come quick, for
your little boy is so very hungry for you. Come quick, darling
father.--Your little waiting boy, RONALD."

"That'll bring him," said Ronald. "We'll put it on the table."

Connie had written her letter badly, and there were several blots; but
still a feat was accomplished. Her cheeks were bright with excitement
now.

"What shall I put outside?" she asked--"on the envelope, I mean."

Ronald thought for a minute; then he said in a slow and impressive
voice:

"To Major Harvey, V. C., from Ronald."

"Nobody can mistake who it's meant for," said Ronald.

"Here's a bit of sealing-wax," said Connie. "Let's seal it."

They did so, Connie stamping the seal with a penny thimble which she
took out of her pocket.

"And now," said Ronald, pulling himself up, "all is ready, and I am
going into Mammy Warren's room to try and find tools for picking the
lock."

"I'm a-goin' with yer," said Connie.

"Oh Connie, that is brave of you."

"No," said Connie, "it 'ud be real cowardly to let yer go alone."

Hand in hand the two children crossed the ugly sitting-room, and opened
the door which led into that mysterious apartment known as Mammy
Warren's room. It certainly was a very strange-looking place. There was
no bed to be seen anywhere, which in itself was surprising. But Connie
explained to Ronald that the huge wooden wardrobe was doubtless a
press-bed which let down at night.

"She'd keep all ki