"'Appiness 'ides in strange places, miss. We found it there, in the midst o' fear. We were like the wild things o' the wood that know nothin' o' this world but what we saw passin' us on the roads when we were 'id. We had clapbread from 'is father's kitchen—the kind they make of oatmeal an' store in barrels. An' 'e would leave me 'idden an' go alone to buy food from th' 'ouses—though we did n't dare do this till we were far away. An' we were wetted by the rains, an' burned by the sun, an' 'ungry, an' footsore, but 'appy as never was. It was our 'oneymoon, miss—such as it was—an' I was wishin' it 'd never end. I could 've gone on with 'im fer all time, wanderin' like gipsies, with none to plague us.
I made a fine figure of a boy, an' once when we were caught among the trees at a brookside, 'e named me 'is young brother come down with 'im from the North to work on the farms. An' I was so brown an' 'ardy no one would suspect. Just to be free o' skirts an' petticoats, an' able to run an' climb like a boy, was a joy of itself. An' when we came at last outside Liverpool, an' I 'ad to put on my own clothes again, I felt as if my wings were clipped to go back to a cage.
Down amid the big ware'ouses, built in stone the color o' smoke, we found a lodgin' 'ouse, an' stayed there till 'Arry learned about the ships an' bought an old chest an' some clothes for us both, an' went aboard with me at night. We were away nex' mornin' over the water. An' then I cried, miss, for th' 'ills an' the beck, an' promised myself that some day when all was for-
