He fancied something moved in the second loft, which was divided from the one he was in by a low partition.  “Shoo—­shoo, get away!” he called, thinking it was rats.  He struck the floor several times with his heavy little boots.

“Shoo!” he said.

“Bunty,”

The boy turned pale to his lips.  That odd, low whisper of his name, that strange rustle so near him—­oh, what could it mean?

“Bunty.”

Again the name sounded.  Louder this time, but in a tired voice, that struck him some way with a strange thrill.  The rustling grew louder, something was getting over the partition, crossing the floor, coming towards him.  He gave a sob of terror and flung himself face downwards on the ground, hiding his little blanched face among the straw.

“Bunty,” said the voice again, and a light hand touched his arm.

“Help me—­help me!” he shrieked.  “Meg—­oh!  Father—­Esther!”

But one hand was hastily put over his mouth and another pulled him into a sitting position.

He had shut his eyes very tightly, so as not to see the ghostly visitant that he knew had come to punish him for his sin.  But something made him open them, and then he felt he could never close them again for amazement.

For, it was Judy’s hand that was over his mouth, and Judy’s self that was standing beside him.

“My golly!” he said, in a tone of stupefaction.  He stared hard at her to make sure she was real flesh and blood.  “However did you get here?”

But Judy made no answer.  She merely took the remaining apple and cake from his hand, and, sitting down, devoured them in silence.

“Haven’t you got any more?” she said anxiously.  Then he noticed what a tall, gaunt, strange-looking Judy it was.  Her clothes were hanging round her almost in tatters, her boots were burst and white with dust, her brown face was thin and sharp, and her hair matted and rough.

“My golly!” the little boy said again, his eyes threatening to start out of his head—­“my golly, Judy, what have you been doin’?”

“I—­I’ve run away, Bunty,” Judy said, in a quavering voice.  “I’ve walked all the way from school.  I wanted to see you all so badly.”

“My jiggery!” Bunty said.

“I’ve thought it all out,” Judy continued, pushing back her hair in a weary moray.  “I can’t quite remember everything just now, I am so tired, but everything will be all right.”

“But what’ll he say?” Bunty said with frightened eyes, as a vision of his father crossed his mind.

“He won’t know, of course,” Judy returned, in a matter-of-fact manner.  “I shall just live here in this loft for a time, and you can all come to see me and bring me food and things, and then presently I’ll go back to school.”  She sank down among the straw and shut her eyes in an exhausted way for a minute or two, and Bunty watched her half fascinated.