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promised you. Now go to the house and get your supper. "
    As the boy now hurried from them. Billy put in flatly, "He was right to skitter, for you could have the authorities round here if anybody gets wind of him. Well, I mean they would want to know where we got him, and all the rest of it. You know yourself you can't keep anything quiet for long, not round here. In the village your business is their business, at least, so it seems. So, in a way, the youngster was wise to make himself scarce. They all seem to know about what they call the Poor Law Contract; they know they'll be sent back, no matter where they're found, either to the same farm or to the same workhouse. You know yourself what the so-called guardians are like. Remember the
    business over at Burnley's farm a few years back?"
    "Those boys were mental."
    "Aye. If I remember rightly they had escaped an' all; but Burnley kept them on. Then what happened when he was taken up for it? He said if the lads were mental then he was mental an' all; and they should never have been put away as children ... They fined him. Oh, heavy."
    Impatient to be gone. Ward hurried from the barn and into the
    stables;
    and when presently he led the saddled horse into the yard. Billy
    called, "She hates the rain. You'll get her under cover, I suppose?"
    And at this, Ward turned a look of disdain on the man for whom he had a deep affection, before putting the horse into a trot that turned into a gallop as soon as they left the farm yard; and Billy's remark to the wind and rain was, "He's caught something a poultice won't help."
    He couldn't understand it. He was on the pavement outside the theatre looking at the rain-soaked poster on the wall. It was the same as last week's, except for one thing: there was no flying angel across the middle, but over it had been stuck a bill that read:
    Laugh With The Lorenzoes, the three sidesplitting maniac acrobats from Spain. Above them and central was the picture of the soprano, with, to one side of her, the big fat woman and the little fat man with their four poodles, and, to the other side, the juggler. Below were the
    names of the 'lesser turns', the print getting smaller towards the end of the bill.
    But where was the Maltese Angel? Gone too was her picture from the sandwich board that was positioned further along the pavement, He did not go into the booking hall but hurried towards the stage door at the side; and when he saw the doorman standing in the passage-way, he
    gabbled, "What's happened? I mean to the Maltese Angel? To ... well, the dancer? "
    The doorman looked him up and down, and grinned as he said, "Oh! You here again? Not a night to come out and have your journey for nowt."
    "What's happened to her?"
    "Oh, she had a bit of an accident. She won't be tripping the light fantastic for a few weeks, I would say. The wire gave way and she hurt her foot."
    "Where is she now?"
    "Oh; back at her lodgings, I suppose. Yes, that's where she is."
    As the spout above him overflowed, Ward stepped quickly into the
    doorway, and from there into the hallway to where the doorman had
    retreated, only to be surprised by being sharply admonished by the man:
    "Here! There's no entrance this way," which succeeded in bringing forth an equally sharp reply from Ward: "I'm not thinking about going in this way, but I'm not going to stand out in that while I'm asking you a question."
    The change of note in Ward's voice caused the man to back from him and again to look him up and down, then say, "Well, the answer you'll get to your question will be no; I'm not at liberty to tell you where she's staying. An' you're not the only one this week who would have liked to know that."
    "I can understand your position; but I must tell you, I mean the lady no harm none at all."
    "Aye; an' I can tell you, mister, that's what they all say, whether they're from the town or the country. An' you're from the country, aren't you?"
    Before Ward could get over his indignation in order to