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encounter Stan again. Although since he was a hansom cabbie and it was a bitter day just short of Christmas, there should have been any amount of trade for him in the streets a little farther west, so he was unlikely to be home.
    Still she waited, shivering in a doorway opposite, holding her shawl tighter and tighter around her, in spite of the fact that it was wet most of the way through. Eventually she saw Minnie Maude opening the door. She stepped out, her pale, littleface bleak, looking one way and then another as if perhaps Charlie might come down the cobbles, in spite of all reason.
    “Stupid little article!” Gracie said savagely to herself. “’e in’t comin’ ’ome!” She found her own voice choking, and was angry. It wasn’t her donkey! She’d never even seen him.
    She moved out of the doorway and marched across the uneven road, her boots sloshing in the puddles where stones were missing and the water had collected.
    Minnie Maude saw her immediately, and her face brightened into a wide smile.
    Gracie’s heart sank. She could do nothing to justify it. She waited while Minnie Maude went back inside and then barely a moment later opened the door again and came clattering across the road.
    “Yer find out summink?” she said eagerly, her eyes bright.
    Gracie hated it. “Nuffink for certain sure,” shereplied. “But I told a wise man about it, an’ ’e thinks as there could be summink bad. ’e said ter leave it alone.”
    Minnie Maude’s eyes never left Gracie’s. “But we in’t goin’ ter …”
    Gracie shivered. The wind was cutting down the street like a knife.
    “Come up inter the stable,” Minnie Maude said quickly. “It’s warm in there, up where the pigeons are. Anyway, I gotta feed them, since Uncle Alf in’t ’ere anymore.” There was only a slight quiver in her voice, and she turned away from Gracie to hide the look on her face. Because she concealed it, it was even more telling.
    Gracie followed her back across the street, tugging at her shawl to keep it around her shoulders. They went around and in through the back gate, then across the cobbles to the stable door. This was where Charlie had lived, and Gracie stared at the rough brick walls and the straw piled on the floor. She noticed that Minnie Maude walkedthrough so quickly that she could hardly have seen anything but a blur of familiar shapes.
    In the next tiny room, half-filled with hay, a rough ladder was propped up against the edge of the loft, and Minnie Maude hitched up her skirts and scrambled up it. “C’mon,” she invited encouragingly. “I’ll ’old the top fer yer.” And as soon as she reached the ledge of the upper floor, she rolled over sideways and then knelt, gripping the two uprights of the ladder and hanging on to them. She peered down at Gracie, waiting for her.
    Wondering where her wits had gone to, Gracie grasped her skirts halfway up her legs and climbed up, hanging on desperately with her other hand. She reached the top white-knuckled and cursing under her breath. Some days she doubted she still had the sense she was born with.
    “Careful!” Minnie Maude warned a trifle sharply as Gracie swayed. “Yer don’ wanna tip it off. We’d ’ave ter jump, and there in’t nuffink ter land on.”
    Gracie clung on desperately, feeling her head whirl and her stomach knot. She said nothing, concentrating fiercely on what she was doing. She couldn’t let Minnie Maude see how scared she was. Minnie Maude would lose all trust in her. She took a deep breath and drew herself up onto the ledge, teetering for a moment, her legs in the air, then scrambled forward and fell flat on her face. She sat up, trying to look as if nothing at all had happened.
    “’is name was Mr. Balthasar,” she said solemnly.
    There was a kind of whir of wings and a clatter as a pigeon burst through the narrow entrance in the roof and landed on the wood. Minnie Maude ignored it. Gracie felt her heart nearly burst out of her