Jeffreys, judging by the way the carriage rocked, thereupon mounted to the box, and Mrs. Haven climbed gingerly into the crowded darkness inside and sat down rather heavily in the vacant corner of the seat, which was, fortunately, the one farthest from Erica. There was a crack of Jeffreys’ whip, a creaking of protesting springs, and they were off. Erica tried to marshal her jumbled thoughts into coherence and decide how best to make her presence and her position known. That matter, however, was taken out of her hands and decided for her by an unexpectedly severe jolt over uneven cobblestones, which flung her out of her hiding-place and across the intervening bags, bringing her up with her startled red head against her no less startled traveling companion’s knee. Mrs. Haven screamed shrilly, clutching at her heart with one hand and Erica’s curls with the other. Luckily the noise of the creaking springs, the jouncing bags, and the clatter of their wheels over the cobblestones prevented old Jeffreys up in front from hearing his mistress’s shriek, and Erica spoke desperately before she could utter another. “Please, ma’am, it’s—it’s all right. Only let me explain!” she implored. The carriage was now crossing a wider thoroughfare, and the first gray light of dawn was brighter here than in the narrower streets hemmed in by houses. Not only outlines now, but some of the details of objects near at hand could be made out. Mrs. Haven, her fingers still buried in Erica’s hair, pulled the latter’s head nearer the carriage window and stared at her piercingly. Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, she began to laugh. Of a truth there was nothing very alarming in the slim boyish figure crouched among the bags at her feet, or in the frightened face with its wide-open sea-blue eyes and mop of tangled red curls. “Boy,” she said, trying to make her tone severe and not succeeding very noticeably, “how did you come in my carriage? And what on earth do you want? I am just starting off on a long journey to China and have no time to waste.” “I—I want you to take me to China with you,” Erica gasped. “I knew you were going. I overheard you talking to that ship’s boy last evening in front of your house. I—heard you speak of wishing you had decided to take your nephew. Couldn’t—couldn’t you just get me on board the ship by pretending I’m in your charge, and keep me with you till the ship’s under way? The captain won’t turn back then to put me ashore and if I can only get to Canton I’ve got a godfather out there who will take care of me. Oh, please, please, ma’am, do help me! I somehow _must_ get to China!” The lady continued to stare at Erica in amazement—as well she might—at having a strange boy tumbled so suddenly into her carriage among her traveling-boxes, to utter a wild request like this, with lips and voice that trembled, and frank, unmistakably honest eyes that pleaded for him.