Maria partially heard him, and no more. Afraid of reaching the landlady’s ears, as well as the maid’s ears, if he raised his voice, he asked if she could read writing. Yes, she could read writing, if it was plain. Amelius immediately reduced the expression of his necessities to writing, in large text. Maria was delighted. She knew the nearest shop at which ready-made outer clothing for women could be obtained, and nothing was wanted, as a certain guide to an ignorant man, but two pieces of string. With one piece, she measured Simple Sally’s height, and with the other she took the slender girth of the girl’s waist--while Amelius opened his writing-desk, and supplied himself with the last sum of spare money that he possessed. He had just closed the desk again, when the voice of the merciless landlady was heard, calling imperatively for Maria. The maid-of-all-work handed the two indicative strings to Amelius. “They’ll ‘elp you at the shop,” she said--and shuffled out of the room. Amelius turned to Simple Sally. “I am going to get you some new clothes,” he began. The girl stopped him there: she was incapable of listening to a word more. Every trace of sorrow vanished from her face in an instant. She clapped her hands. “Oh!” she cried, “new clothes! clean clothes! Let me go with you.” Even Amelius saw that it was impossible to take her out in the streets with him in broad daylight, dressed as she was then. “No, no,” he said, “wait here till you get your new things. I won’t be half an hour gone. Lock yourself in if you’re afraid, and open the door to nobody till I come back!” Sally hesitated; she began to look frightened. “Think of the new dress, and the pretty bonnet,” suggested Amelius, speaking unconsciously in the tone in which he might have promised a toy to a child. He had taken the right way with her. Her face brightened again. “I’ll do anything you tell me,” she said. He put the key in her hand, and was out in the street directly.