Whether the crooked sixpence had anything to do with it or not, her luck did change, and she played every night after this in the same neighbourhood, and at the end of a week she had earned five-and-twenty beautiful white shillings, to say nothing of the bent sixpence. One day she ventured forth in the forenoon, and while playing her sweetest an unsavoury-looking man, in a bowler hat and wearing an unwholesome-looking coat, walked up to her. He had not even the good manners to wait until she had finished her piece, but tapped her somewhat rudely on the shoulder. 'Beg your pardon--er--but what is your age, my girl?' 'Thirteen next week,' said Lotty, wondering what he meant. 'Ah, that means twelve. Ahem! I'm a board school officer. What standard?' 'What standard? I--I don't know what you mean, sir!' 'Ah, I thought not. Never been to school, eh?' 'N--no--that is'---- 'That'll do. Now, your address? Don't tell me a fib, 'cause I'll find out. I can follow you.' Lotty's cheek burned with shame. All the independence of her spirit rose in rebellion now. 'I shall not give my address, never, never, _never_. I don't know you, sir. Follow me if you please, but I never tell lies.' A tall, rather handsome gentleman now stepped out of the crowd and took immediate charge of the situation. 'Have you got your card, fellow?' he said to the man in the bowler. 'Well--no, not exactly, but here's an envelope.' Lotty's newly found friend recoiled a little when he looked at it. 'The child,' he said 'will permit me to go home with her; you, sir, may follow at a respectful distance.--Come, dear, give me your hand.' When the board school officer did come to the cottage he was received with politeness, but--had his answer; and the gentleman who had come to Lotty's assistance was very much delighted to find that she had received the best of education. Indeed, he gave proof of this by engaging her as a day-teacher of music and French to his own children. That crooked sixpence had surely brought luck in its wake. CHAPTER XXVII. 'GAZE ON THOSE SUMMER WOODS.' It was a happy day for Lotty on which Chops returned to the cottage abode of his parents after so many weary wanderings. Not so romantic, certainly, would his life be now as it had been in wayside camp or caravan--it might even be a somewhat prosaic one; for, instead of being a gipsy any more, Chops was about to become a citizen and end probably in becoming a man of substance. Well, he had been a boy of substance, at all events; and although it was nearly a month since Lotty had seen him, he did not appear to have lost flesh to any appreciable extent. But to find his little companion so happy, and so much at home at his mother's cottage, and even on a fair way to earn a good livelihood, made honest Chops beam with joy.