'ere," replied the youth, drawing up before Connie and
making a low bow.

"Giles is worse, Pickles," said Connie, "an' wot's to be done?"

Pickles's round face grew grave.

"Is 'e wery bad?" he asked.

"So bad that he'll soon go up to God," said Connie. Her eyes filled with
tears; they rolled down her cheeks.

"Bright as dimants they be," thought the boy as he watched her.
"Precious tears! I could poetise 'bout them."

"Pickles," said Connie again, "I have made Giles a promise. He sha'n't
die without seeing Sue. I'm sartin sure, Pickles, that you could take me
to Sue now--I'm convinced 'bout it--and I want you to do it."

"Why do you think that?" asked Pickles.

"'Cos I do," said Connie. "'Cos of the way you've looked and the way
you've spoken. Oh, dear Pickles, take me to her now; let me bring her
back to little Giles to-night!"

Once again that terribly mournful expression, so foreign to Pickles's
freckled face, flitted across it.

"There!" he said, giving himself a thump. "W'en I could I wouldn't, and
now w'en I would I can't. I don't know where she be. She's lost--same as
you were lost--w'ile back. She's disappeared, and none of us know
nothink about her."

"Oh! is she really lost? How terrible that is!" said Connie.

"Yus, she's lost. P'r'aps there's one as could find her. Connie, I 'ate
beyond all things on 'arth to fright yer or say an unkind thing to yer;
but to me, Connie, you're a star that shines afar. Yer'll fergive the
imperence of my poetry, but it's drawn from me by your beauty."

"Don't talk nonsense now, Pickles," said Connie. "Things are too
serious. We must find Sue--I must keep my promise."

"Can you bear a bit o' pine?" said Pickles suddenly.

"Pain?" said Connie. "I've had a good deal lately. Yes, I think--I think
I can bear it."

"Mind yer," said Pickles, "it's this w'y. I know w'y Sue left yer, and I
know w'y she ain't come back. It's true she 'aven't give herself hup
yet, although she guv me to understand as she were 'bout to go to
prison."

"To prison?" said Connie, springing forward and putting her hand on
Pickles's shoulder. "Sue--the most honest gel in all the world--go to
prison?"

"Oh yes," said Pickles, "yer might call her honest; but w'en she goes
into a pawnshop an' comes hout agin wid a golden dimant locket a-hid in
her pocket, there are people as won't agree wid yer, an' that's the
solemn truth, Connie."

Connie's face was very white.

"I don't believe it,"