At the bridge they turned, as Tilda had turned, to the left, and came, as Tilda had come, to the Orphanage gate with its box labelled, “For Voluntary Donations.”

Mr. Hucks rang the bell; and after a minute or so Mrs. Huggins, slatternly as ever, opened the front door and came shuffling down the pathway.

“Eh?” said she, halting within the gate, a pilaster of which hid Miss Sally from her.  “Mr.  ‘Ucks?  And what might you be wantin’, Mr.  ’Ucks?”

“Nineteen pound ten,” Mr. Hucks answered tersely.

“Then you can’t ’ave it.”

“That’s a pity.”  He appeared to ruminate for a second or two.  “And I can’t offer to take it out in orphans, neither.  Very well, then, I must see Glasson.”

“You can’t; ’e’s not at ’ome.”

“That’s a worse pity.  Hist, now!” he went on with a sudden change of tone, “it’s about the runaways.  I’ve news of ’em.”

He said it at the top of his voice.

“For the Lord’s sake—­” entreated the woman, glancing nervously across his shoulder at the traffic in the street.  “The Doctor don’t want it discussed for all the town to ’ear.”

“No, I bet he don’t.  But it’s your own fault, missus.  This side o’ the gate a man can’t scarcely hear hisself speak.”

“Come in, then, if you’ve brought news.  The Doctor’ll be glad enough when ’e comes back.”

“Will he?” Mr. Hucks, as she opened, planted his bulk against the gate, pushing it back and at the same time making way for Miss Sally to follow him.  “Yes, I got news; but here’s a lady can tell it better than me—­ ‘avin’ come acrost them right away down in Somerset.”

Mrs. Huggins stepped forward, but too late.  “I don’t want no crowd in ’ere,” she muttered, falling back a pace, however, as Miss Sally confronted her.

“You’ll have one in two two’s if you make any disturbance,” Miss Sally promised her, with half a glance back at the street.  “Show me into the house, if you please.”

“Shan’t.”

The woman placed herself in the pathway, with arms akimbo, barring her passage.

“You behave very foolishly in denying me,” said Miss Sally.

“Maybe; but I got my orders. You never took no orders from a man, I should say—­not by the looks o’ yer.”

“You are right there.”

Miss Sally regarded her with a smile of conscious strength, stern but good-natured.  Her gaze wandered past the woman’s shoulder, and the smile broadened.  Mrs. Huggins saw it broaden, and cast a look behind her, towards the house—­to see Mr. Bossom, coal-grimed but cheerful, grinning down on her from the front door-step.

“It’s a trap!” she gasped, shooting a venomous look at Mr. Hucks.

“It looks like one,” said Miss Sally, stepping past her; “and I shall be curious to know, by and by, who baited it.”

“Where shall I take ye, ma’am?” asked Sam Bossom.