As the caravan moved slowly along, its owner began to talk to Nell, and presently pulled out a large roll of canvas.  “There child,” she said, “read that!”

Nell read aloud the inscription, “Jarley’s Waxwork.”

“That’s me,” said the lady complacently.

“I never saw any waxwork, ma’am,” said Nell.  “Is it funnier than Punch?”

“Funnier!” said Mrs. Jarley, in a shrill voice.  “It is not funny at all.  It’s calm and—­what’s that word again—­critical?  No—­classical, that’s it—­it’s calm and classical.”

In the course of the journey Mrs. Jarley was so taken with the child that she proposed to engage her, and as Nell would not be separated from her grandfather, he was included in the agreement.

“What I want your granddaughter for,” said Mrs. Jarley, “is to point ’em out to the company, for she has a way with her that people wouldn’t think unpleasant.  It’s not a common offer, bear in mind; it’s Jarley’s Waxwork.  The duty’s very light and genteel, the exhibition takes place in assembly rooms or town halls.  There is none of your open-air wagrancy at Jarley’s, remember.  And the price of admission is only sixpence.”

“We are very much obliged to you, ma’am,” said Nell, speaking for her grandfather, “and thankfully accept your offer.”

“And you’ll never be sorry for it,” returned Mrs. Jarley.  “So, as that’s all settled, let us have a bit of supper.”

The next morning, the caravan having arrived at the town, and the waxworks having been unpacked in the town hall, Mrs. Jarley sat down in an armchair in the centre of the room, and began to instruct Nell in her duty.

“That,” said Mrs. Jarley in her exhibition tone, “is an unfortunate maid of honour in the time of Queen Elizabeth, who died from pricking her finger in consequence of working on a Sunday.  Observe the blood which is trickling from her finger, also the gold-eyed needle of the period, with which she is at work.”

Nell found in the lady of the caravan a kind and considerate person, who had not only a peculiar relish for being comfortable herself, but for making everybody about her comfortable also.

But the child noticed that her grandfather grew more and more listless and vacant, and soon a greater sorrow was to come.  The passion for gambling revived in the old man one evening, when he and Nell, out walking in the country, took passing shelter from a storm in a small public-house.  He saw men playing cards, and, allowed to join them, lost.  The next night he went off alone, and Nell, finding him gone, followed.  Her grandfather was with the card-players near an encampment of gypsies, and, to her horror, he promised to bring more money.

Flight was now the only thing possible, before her grandfather should steal.  How else could he get the money?

IV.—­Beyond the Pale

Flight by water!  For two days they travelled on a barge, Nell sitting with her grandfather in the boat.  Rugged and noisy fellows were the bargemen, and quite brutal among themselves, though civil enough to their passengers.  The barge floated into the wharf to which it belonged, and now came flight by land through a strange, unfriendly town.  The travellers were penniless, and at nightfall took refuge in a deep doorway.