llage. I made Charles stop, and we stood behind a hedge, and I watched the doors and windows. At one, a girl stood shaking cloths—though after a minute she went inside, and then the window was closed. At another, a woman with a bucket passed back and forth, not looking out. The windows of the next cottage down were all shut and dark; but I guessed there must be something behind them, worth stealing: I thought of going to the door and knocking and, if no-one came, trying the latch. But as I stood, working up my nerve, there came voices, from the very last house: we looked, and there at the garden gate was a woman and two little children. The woman was tying on a bonnet and kissing the children good-bye.
''Now, Janet,'' she was saying to the biggest one, ''mind you watch Baby nicely. I shall be back to give you your egg. You may hem your hankie if you like, if you''ll only be careful with the needle.''
''Yes, Ma,'' said the girl. She put her face up to be kissed, then stood on the gate and swung it. Her mother walked quickly away from the cottage—past me and Charles, though she didn''t know it; for we were still hidden behind our hedge.
I watched her go. Then I looked from her to the little girl—who had left the gate now, and was walking back up the path, leading her brother towards the open cottage door. Then I looked at Charles. I said,
''Charles, here''s Fate turned our way at last. Give me a sixpence, will you?'' He felt about in his pocket. ''Not that one. Haven''t you got a brighter?''