what an extremely rash thing she had
done in running away, and in what a terrible position she had placed
herself. Alone, friendless, and nearly penniless, in the midst of a
great, strange city, with no one who knew her, nowhere to go, and the
light already fading so fast that it was dark in the little parlour! She
had acted almost on the spur of the moment in leaving Briarcroft,
without seriously considering whether her plans were practicable, and
now she was reaping the bitter harvest of her own folly. She began
heartily to wish herself back at school; even Miss Poppleton's severest
scolding was as nothing to the misery of this present crisis, and she
yearned for the sight of Miss Edith with a longing that amounted to
home-sickness. Wishing and regretting, however, would not help her in
the least. She must find some way out of her difficulty, and that
promptly.

"I've only one and ninepence left," she faltered. "And out of that I
have to pay for my tea and keep a few pennies to go back into Liverpool
with by the car. Could I get a night's lodging anywhere very cheaply? Do
you know of a clean place?"

"Better not try cheap lodgings!" said the woman emphatically. "Can't you
go home again? No? That's a bad lookout." Then, noticing the utter
agony in Gipsy's face, she added: "Well, I'd be sorry to turn a young
girl like you out alone at this time of night. I'll let you sleep on the
sofa here, if you can manage, and you can get on to Liverpool first
thing in the morning."

Manage? Gipsy would have slept on the floor, instead of the sofa, if
required. She was only too thankful to be allowed to stay, and was
almost ready to hug the little confectioner with gratitude. She was so
utterly wearied that she was glad to lie down at once in the parlour,
and even before the tea-things were removed from the table she had sunk
into a sleep of absolute exhaustion. Her hostess scanned her face
narrowly, took in the details of her dress, and examined her school hat
with attention, then shook her head.

"Doesn't look much in the stewardess line of business," she muttered.
"There's something wrong here, I'm afraid. I'll have a talk with her
to-morrow." Then she locked the parlour door carefully before she went
back to the shop.

Gipsy slept straight on until eight o'clock the next morning, when she
was aroused by her landlady, who brought her a cup of tea and a piece of
thick bread and butter.

"If you'll take the advice of one who