Clare had not had a good sight of the child, and was at a loss to think what must be her age. Her language, both in form and utterance, was partly precise and _grown-up_, and partly childish; but her wisdom was child-like--and that is the opposite both of precise and childish. It was the wisdom that comes of unity between thought and action. “Is there anything I can do for you before I go?--for I must go,” said Clare. “Who says _must_ to you? Nurse says _must_ to me.” “Your papa says _must_ to me.” “If you didn’t say _yes_ when papa said _must_, what would come next?” “He would say, ‘Go out of my house, and never come in again.’” “And would you do it?” “I must: the house is his, not mine.” “If I didn’t say _yes_ when papa said _must_, what would happen?” “He would try to make you say it.” “And if I wouldn’t, would he say, ‘Go out of my house and never come in again’?” “No; you are his little girl!” “Then I think he shouldn’t say it to you.--What is your name?” “Clare.” “Then, Clare, if my papa sends you out of his house, I will go with you.--You wouldn’t turn me out, would you, when I was a _little_ naughty?” “No; neither would your papa.” “If he turned you out, it would be all the same. Where you go, I will go. I must, you know! Would you mind if he said, ‘Go away’?” “I should be very sorry to leave you.” “Yes, but that’s not going to be! Why do you stay with papa? Were you in the house always--ever so long before I saw you?” “No; a very little while only.” “Did you come in from the street?” “Yes; I came in from the street. Your papa pays me to work for him.” “And if you wouldn’t?” “Then I should have no money, and nothing to eat, and nowhere to sleep at night.” “Would that make you uncomfable?” “It would make me die.” “Have you a papa?” “Yes, but he’s far away.” “You could go to him, couldn’t you?” “One day I shall.” “Why don’t you go now, and take me?” “Because he died.” “What’s _died_?” “Went away out of sight, where we can’t go to look for him till we go out of sight too.” “When will that be?” “I don’t know.” “Does anybody know?” “Nobody.” “Then perhaps you will never go?” “We must go; it’s only that nobody knows when.” “I think the when that nobody knows, mayn’t never come.--Is that why you have to work?” “Everybody has to work one way or another.” “I haven’t to work!” “If you don’t work when you’re old enough, you’ll be miserable.” “_You’re_ not old enough.” “Oh, yes, indeed I am! I’ve been working a long time now.” “Where? Not for papa?” “No; not for papa.” “Why not? Why didn’t you come sooner? Why didn’t you come _much_ sooner--_ever_ so much sooner? Why did you make me wait for you all the time?” “Nobody ever told me you were waiting.” “Nobody ever told me you were coming, but I knew.” “You had to wait for me, and you knew. I had to wait for you, and I didn’t know! When we have time, I will tell you all about myself, and how I’ve been waiting too.” “Waiting for me?” “No.”