“Fer the land sakes!  I don’t know,” said the grandmother, looking around the room in alarm.  “We haven’t any place fer horses.  Perhaps you might get him into the back yard fer a while till we think what to do.  There’s a stable, but they charge high to board horses.  Lizzie knows one of the fellers that works there.  Mebbe he’ll tell us what to do.  Anyway, you lead him round to the alleyway, and we’ll see if we can’t get him in the little ash-gate.  You don’t suppose he’d try to get in the house, do you?  I shouldn’t like him to come in the kitchen when I was getting supper.”

“O no!” said Elizabeth.  “He’s very good.  Where is the back yard?”

This arrangement was finally made, and the two women stood in the kitchen door, watching Robin drink a bucketful of water and eat heartily of the various viands that Mrs. Brady set forth for him, with the exception of the excelsior, which he snuffed at in disgust.

“Now, ain’t he smart?” said Mrs. Brady, watching fearfully from the door-step, where she might retreat if the animal showed any tendency to step nearer to the kitchen.  “But don’t you think he’s cold?  Wouldn’t he like a—­a—­shawl or something?”

The girl drew the old coat from her shoulders, and threw it over him, her grandmother watching her fearless handling of the horse with pride and awe.

“We’re used to sharing this together,” said the girl simply.

“Nan sews in an up-town dressmaker’s place,” explained Mrs. Brady by and by, when the wash was hung out in fearsome proximity to the weary horse’s heels, and the two had returned to the warm kitchen to clean up and get supper.  “Nan’s your ma’s sister, you know, older’n her by two year; and Lizzie, that’s her girl, she’s about ’s old ’s you.  She’s got a good place in the ten-cent store.  Nan’s husband died four years ago, and her and me’ve been livin’ together ever since.  It’ll be nice fer you and Lizzie to be together.  She’ll make it lively fer you right away.  Prob’ly she can get you a place at the same store.  She’ll be here at half past six to-night.  This is her week to get out early.”

The aunt came in first.  She was a tall, thin woman with faded brown hair and a faint resemblance to Elizabeth’s mother.  Her shoulders stooped slightly, and her voice was nasal.  Her mouth looked as if it was used to holding pins in one corner and gossiping out of the other.  She was one of the kind who always get into a rocking-chair to sew if they can, and rock as they sew.  Nevertheless, she was skilful in her way, and commanded good wages.  She welcomed the new niece reluctantly, more excited over her remarkable appearance among her relatives after so long a silence than pleased, Elizabeth felt.  But after she had satisfied her curiosity she was kind, beginning to talk about Lizzie, and mentally compared this thin, brown girl with rough hair and dowdy clothes to her own stylish daughter.  Then Lizzie burst in.  They could hear her calling to a young man who had walked home with her, even before she entered the house.