"All very well," observed Sam, withdrawing the pipe from his mouth. "But 'ow about the children? I put it to _you_, ma'am." "Ah, poor things!" sighed Mrs. Mortimer, and hesitated. She was about to say more, when her husband interrupted-- "I trust--I sincerely trust--that my failings, such as they are, have ever leaned to the side of altruism. Throughout life I have been apt to injure myself in befriending others; and you see "--Mr. Mortimer flourished a hand--"where it has landed me. We have convoyed these children to Stratford, to use the language of commerce, as _per_ contract. To ask me--to ask Mrs. Mortimer--to dance attendance upon them indefinitely, at the sacrifice of these golden prospects--" But at this point someone tapped at the door. "Come in!" called Sam, swinging around in his chair, and with that, jumping to his feet, let out a cheerful "hooray!" "Same to you," said Tilda, nodding, as she admitted Arthur Miles and closed the door behind him. "Anything to eat in this public?" "I'll order in supper at once," said Sam. "No you won't; not for five minutes any'ow. Well, 'ere we are--and 'ow 'ave you three been gettin' along since I saw yer last?" "Oh, _we're_ all right; but all the better for seein' you. That's understood." "W'ich I looks towards yer, and I likewise bows," said Tilda graciously. "But what's the matter?" she asked, glancing from one to the other. "A stranger might say as you wasn' the best o' friends." "Nothin'," answered Sam after a slight pause. "Bit of a argymint-- that's all." "Wot about?" "'Tisn worth mentionin'." Sam glanced at the other two. "The theayter 'ere's offered Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer an engagement." "Well?" "We was discussin' whether they ought to take it." "W'y not?" "Well, you see--Glasson bein' about--" "After them too, is 'e? Don't mean ter say _they've_ been an' lost their fathers an' mothers? No? Then I don't see." "Them 'avin' contracted to look after you--" He paused here, as Tilda, fixing him with a compassionate stare, began to shake her head slowly. "You don't deserve it--you reelly don't," she said, more in sorrow than in anger; then with a sharp change of tone, "And you three 'ave been allowin', I s'pose, that our best chance to escape notice is travellin' around with a fur coat an' a sixty-foot Theayter Royal? . . . W'y, wot was it put Glasson on our tracks? . . . Oh, I'm not blamin' yer! Some folks--most folks, I'm comin' to think--just can't 'elp theirselves. But it's saddenin'." "0' course," suggested Sam, "I might take on the job single-'anded. My orders don't go beyond this place; but the beer'll wait, and 'Ucks per'aps won't mind my takin' a 'oliday--not if I explain." Tilda regarded him for a while before answering. When at length she spoke, it was with a fine, if weary, patience--"Got pen-an'-ink, any of yer?"