Janet handed her the tea.

"Thank you, me darlin'," said the old woman. "I'm feeling better already. That's a beautiful locket you're wearing--it is the very image of one that belonged to me poor little Clara that died."

The old woman began to cry. Janet was greatly distressed. "I can't help it," said the old woman. "Me poor little Clara! I kept it for years and years, and then it was taken from me by my landlady's son, a good-for-nothing blackguard, in lodgings off the Pentonville Road." She sobbed afresh. "I've never been happy since," she said.

"Oh," Janet exclaimed, "do take this. I don't want it, I'm sure, if it would make you happy."

"But it's robbing you of it I am," said the old woman, as her hand closed on it.

"I'd much rather you had it," Janet replied.

"Heaven bless your kind heart!" said the old woman.

They jogged on, and she continued to look around her and to ask questions. She asked all about Janet's home and parents.

"Could you," she said at last, "lend me a shilling, my dear? It's to buy the little baby some mittens, his poor hands get that cold. I don't want you to give it, but couldn't you lend it me only for to-day? I'll post you a beautiful postal order to-night, which my daughter's husband will get for me, or a beautiful row of stamps, if you'll give me the address of the grand house you'll be staying in at Stratford."

But Janet was firm; she had promised Kink.

"Not for the poor little mite's cold hands?" said the old woman.

It was very hard, but Janet had to say no.

The old woman said no more for some time. Then suddenly, "Did you ever see the late King, G.o.d bless him?" she asked.

"Yes," said Janet, "I saw him once. It was at the opening of Parliament."

"Then you can tell me," said the old woman, "something I want to know; for I was arguing it with my daughter's husband the last time I was here, and I want to convince him. He says--my daughter's husband, that is--that the King had thick hair on the top of his head, G.o.d bless him!

and I say he hadn't. What I say is, he'd got all the hair he needed. So if you ever saw him, you could tell me."

"Oh, no, I can't," Janet said. "When I saw him he was in a carriage."

"What a pity!" said the old woman. "But haven't you a portrait of him anywhere?"

"No, I'm sure we haven't," said Janet. "Perhaps we ought to have! It would be more loyal, wouldn't it?"

"Never mind," said the old woman; "only it would put my mind at rest."

And then suddenly she began to laugh. "Why," she said, "how silly we are! Of course you've got portraits of him--lashin's of them, darlin'."

"Where?" Janet exclaimed.

"In your purse," said the old woman. "On the blessed money. On the shillings and sixpences, my dear."

"Of course," said Janet, laughing too; and she drew out her purse and looked at the money it contained. There was half a sovereign and half a crown and some smaller coins; but none were new ones: all were of Victoria's reign.

"What a pity!" said the old woman again--"perhaps one of your brothers or sisters has some more. Not the old blackguard driving, of course."

"Yes," said Janet; "I'll see;" and descended the steps, and soon after returned with an Edward shilling.

The old woman took it and examined head. "I was right," she said, "G.o.d bless him! He was as thin on the top as my own poor father was, rest his soul! Well, dear, and now I'll say good-bye," she added soon after, as she rose to her feet and gave the shilling back. "If you'll make that spalpeen stop, I'll get down, for me daughter's cottage is just over there, across fields. Thank you very kindly for the tea and your sweet company. Good-bye, good bye," she called, "and the saints protect you all!" and she hobbled off through a gate in the hedge.

At Alverminster Gregory insisted upon buying some acid-drops, and went to Janet for a penny. But when she came to feel for her purse it was not to be found. She hunted everywhere in the caravan, but in vain.

"When did you have it last?" Kink asked. "You haven't bought anything to-day."

"No," said Janet, "but I had it out when the old Irishwoman was there."

"I guessed she'd get some money out of you," said Kink.

"Oh, Kink!" said Janet; "she didn't. And after I had promised, too! All she wanted to see was King Edward's head on a coin."

"What for?" Kink asked.

"To see if he was bald on the top or not," said Janet. "She had had an argument with her daughter's husband about it. Which just proves that you were wrong in thinking she had no daughter."

Kink smiled an annoying smile. "Well," he said, "what then?"

"We found a coin," said Janet, "and found that the King was bald on the top. That's all."

"And shortly afterwards she got out?" Kink asked.

"Yes, soon afterwards."

Kink laughed very heartily. "Well," he said, "I could see she was an old fraud, but I didn't think she would steal anything, or I wouldn't have let her in the caravan at all."

"Steal!" Janet cried. "Why, do you think she stole it? It's very horrid and unjust of you."

"Then where is it?" Kink asked. "That stuff about the King's head was a trick. It's a clear case. We must go to the constable's house."

"Oh, no," said Janet, "we won't. She was a poor old thing, and her heart was bad, and she was very unhappy, and I don't mind about the money."

"She's an old vagabond," said Kink, "and her heart's as sound as mine.

She wants locking up."

"I won't have it," said Janet again. "If she did steal it, it was very wrong; but she has had very bad luck. Don't let's think any more about it, but pay for the sweets and get on."

Poor Janet! no wonder she wanted the matter dropped, for there was her locket to be explained if any of the others noticed it and asked questions. She was very silent for some time, and walked alone, thinking hard. This was her first experience of theft, and it hurt her.

The children, as it happened, never did notice the absence of the locket, but they kept the memory of the old woman very green. Nothing after that could be missed without some reference to her.

"Where's the corkscrew?" Robert would say. "I suppose Kathleen Mavourneen's got it."

"It's no use," Jack would remark, "I can't find the salt. Erin go bragh!"

CHAPTER 19