Before she finished the sentence Becky placed before her a thick slice of bread and butter, and was busy cutting another. Fanny soon dispatched them, and did not say "No" to a third slice. "Do you feel better, Fanny?" asked Becky. "Ever so much," replied Fanny, looking wistfully around. The kitchen was warm, and the little beggar girl was thinking of the cold night outside. Becky noticed the look and knew what it meant. "No, Fanny," she thought, "you shall not go out in the cold to-night. It is my belief you were sent to help me; it may be a lucky meeting for both of us." "Fanny," she said aloud, "where's your mother?" "She's got three months," said Fanny, "and the magistrate sed he'd 'ave give 'er six if he could." "Where are you going to sleep to-night?" "Blanche," said Fanny, with a quiver in her voice, "is there such a thing as a coal-cellar 'ere?" "Why, Fanny?" "I'd like to sleep in it, if you don't mind." "I _do_ mind, Fanny. Yon can't sleep in the coal-cellar." Fanny sighed mournfully, and partly rose. "I can't stop 'ere, then, Blanche?" "You shall if you like, Fanny, and you shall sleep with me." "O, Blanche!" cried Fanny, clasping her face with her dirty little hands. The tears forced themselves between the thin, bony fingers. "Why, that looks as if you were sorry, Fanny!" "I'm cryin' for joy, Blanche. I should 'ave taken my 'ook to-night if it 'adn't been for you. When I fell down in a faint outside your door, I thought I was goin' to die." "You shall not die, Fanny," said Becky; "you shall live, and grow into a fine young woman. Listen to me, and don't forget a word I say to you. You are sharp and clever, and I want you now to be sharper and cleverer than ever you have been in your life before." Fanny nodded, and fixed her eyes upon Becky's face. "I am a servant in this house; my mistress's name is Mrs. Preedy; she is out gossiping, and I expect her back every minute. If she comes in while I am talking, I shall bundle you into bed, and you'll fall fast asleep. You understand?" "Yes." "I am not a real servant, but nobody is to know that but you and me. Put your hand in mine, Fanny, and promise to be my friend, as I promise to be yours. That's an honest squeeze, Fanny, and I know what it means. It means that I can trust you thoroughly, and that you will do and say everything exactly as I wish." "That's just what it _does_ mean, Blanche." "My name is not Blanche." "No?" "No. It's Becky." "I'm fly." "And never was anything else. The reason why I am a servant here is because I have something very particular to do--and that also is a secret between me and you. When it is done, I shall be a lady, and perhaps I will take you as my little maid." "O, Becky! Becky!" exclaimed Fanny, overjoyed at the prospect.