the warehouse and left the children alone. But that did not disconcert
them, as might have been expected. From the first moment they felt at
home with each other. Walter was the first to speak. He leaned up
against the chimneypiece, and meditatively watched the girl as she began
deftly to clear the table.

'I say, miss,' he said then, 'do you think you'll like to be here?'

The English was pretty tolerable, though the accent was very Scotch.

'No. How could I?' was the frank reply of Gladys. 'But I have nowhere
else, and I should be thankful for it.'

'Um.'

Walter thrust his hands into his diminutive pockets, and eyed her with a
kind of meditative gravity.

'Are you always thankful when you should be?' he inquired.

'I am afraid not,' Gladys answered, with a little shake of her head.
'You live here all the week, don't you, till Saturday night, when you go
home?'

'Yes; and I'm always thankful, if you like, when Monday comes.'

Gladys looked at him in wonder.

'You are glad when Monday comes, to come back here? How strange!--and
the other place is home. Have you a father and mother?'