t still unmistakably wheels, clattering over
some distant cobbles. She raised her voice and shouted; then held her
breath to listen. The clatter grew more distinct; it drew nearer and
nearer. She clambered up the fence and stood there waving her arms and
shouting as madly as if she had been a shipwrecked mariner sighting a
sail. She paused a moment to listen. The rattling wheels came nearer.
She shouted again and then waited, listening intently. The rattling
stopped. She set up a wild howl of dismay and kept it up till her ears
seemed on the point of splitting. But now the clatter of wheels had
begun again and she could see a milk cart rounding the corner of the
street. She gave a long, shrill whistle and leaped down and ran
frantically out into the road, straight for the horse's head.

It was a second or two before the astonished driver could be made to
understand, but when he did, he bounded out of his cart willingly
enough, vaulted over the fence and then bade Nan "stand hard" while he
lifted Ruth into her arms. Her weight was nothing to the brawny
fellow, and he had her safely stowed away on the seat of his cart, with
Nan crouching on the floor beside her and himself clinging to the step
outside, in less time than it takes to tell it.

Nan gave him the street and number in a trembling gasp of gratitude.
He eyed her narrowly, and then seemed to sum up his conclusion in a
low, keen whistle. Her hat was hanging by its elastic on her
shoulders; her hair was blown out of all order by the wind; her dress
was torn and her hands were bruised and none too clean. She had no
coat on, and her cheeks were flaming with cold and excitement. She was
an astonishing spectacle.

"Guess you're a sort of high-flyer, ain't you?" said he at last without
a sign of ill-nature.

Nan set her jaws and did not reply.

"Oh, well, I don't want to hurt your feelings. Only you look sorter
wild-like, you know, and as if your mother didn't know you was out."

Nan's teeth snapped. "I haven't got any mother," she returned curtly.
"She's dead."

The milkman looked uncomfortable. He shifted awkwardly from one foot
to the other and muttered something about being sorry. Then for some
time there was silence.

"That's the house," announced Nan at length, jumping to the step and
hanging to the rail above the dashboard. "That third one from the
corner, on this side. Please let me out first. I want to run ahead
and tell."

Almost