The moment she was out of Tante Pauline’s sight, instead of gathering nickels, she was wandering around aimlessly, searching and asking for the blue heron, and at night, when she returned with an empty pocket, she shivered and cowered into a corner for fear of madame’s anger.
One morning it was very cold; she had had no breakfast, and she felt tired and ill, and when madame told her to go out and not to come back without some money, she fell to crying piteously, and for the first time begged and implored to stay where she was, declaring that she could not sing any more, and that she was afraid, because some rude children had thrown mud at her the day before, and told her not to come into the street again.
This first revolt seemed to infuriate madame, for reaching out to where the child stood trembling and sobbing she clutched her and shook her violently, and then slapping her tear-stained little face until it tingled, she bade her go out instantly, and not to return unless she brought some money with her.
This was the first time that Lady Jane had suffered the ignominy of a blow, and it seemed to arouse her pride and indignation, for she stopped sobbing instantly, and, wiping the tears resolutely from her face, shot one glance of mingled scorn and surprise at her tyrant, and walked out of the room with the dignity of a little princess.
When once outside, she held her hands for a moment to her burning face, while she tried to still the tumult of anger and sorrow that was raging in her little heart; then she gathered herself together with a courage beyond her years, and hurried away without once looking back at the scene of her torture.
When she was far enough from the wretched neighborhood to feel safe from observation, she turned in a direction quite different from any she had taken before. The wind was intensely cold, but the sun shone brightly, and she hugged her little shawl around her, and ran on and on swiftly and hopefully.
“If I hurry and walk and walk just as fast as I can, I’m sure to come to Good Children Street, and then I’ll ask Pepsie or Mam’selle Diane to keep me, for I’ll never, never, go back to Tante Pauline again.”
By and by, when she was quite tired with running and walking, she came to a beautiful, broad avenue that she had never seen before. There were large, fine houses, and gardens blooming brightly even in the chilly December wind, and lovely children; dressed in warm velvet and furs, walking with their nurses on the wide, clean sidewalks; and every moment carriages drawn by glossy, prancing horses whirled by, and people laughed and talked merrily, and looked so happy and contented. She had never seen anything like it before. It was all delightful, like a pleasant dream, and even better than Good Children Street. She thought of Pepsie, and wished that she could see it, and then she imagined how enchanted her friend would be to ride in one of those fine carriages, with the sun shining on her, and the fresh wind blowing in her face. The wind reminded her that she was cold. It pierced through her thin frock and scanty skirts, and the holes in her shoes and stockings made her ashamed. After a while she found a sunny corner on the steps of a church, where she crouched and tried to cover her dilapidated shoes with her short skirts.
Presently a merry group of children passed, and she heard them talking of Christmas. “To-morrow is Christmas; this is Christmas Eve, and we are going to have a Christmas-tree.” Her heart gave a great throb of joy. By to-morrow she was sure to find Pepsie, and Pepsie had promised her a Christmas-tree long ago, and she wouldn’t forget; she was sure to have it ready for her. Oh, if she only dared ask some of these kind-looking people to show her the way to Good Children Street! But she remembered what Tante Pauline had told her, and fear kept her silent. However, she was sure, now that she had got away from that dreadful place, that some one would find her. Mr. Gex had found her before when she was lost, and he might find her now, because she didn’t have a domino on, and he would know her right away; and then she would get Mr. Gex to hunt for Tony, and perhaps she would have Tony for Christmas. In this way she comforted herself until she was quite happy.
After a while a kind-looking woman came along with a market-basket on her arm. She was eating something, and Lady Jane, being very hungry looked at her so wistfully that the woman stopped and asked her if she would like a piece of bread. She replied eagerly that she would. The good woman gave her a roll and a large, rosy apple, and she went back to her corner and munched them contentedly. Then a fine milk-cart rattled up to a neighboring door, and her heart almost leaped to her throat; but it was not Tante Modeste. Still, Tante Modeste might come any moment. She sold milk way up town to rich people. Yes, she was sure to come; so she sat in her corner and ate her apple, and waited with unwavering confidence.