the soft side of Mummy by pretending to be pleased— which rather restored her opinion of him.
These musings were disagreeably cut short by Mrs. Dan, who gave her a spelling-book and commanded her to learn ten words—a task even more abhorrent than housework. Hugh looked surprised.
"Does she have school?"
"If you can call it school," Mrs. Dan answered. "She has to have lessons—of a sort. If an Inspector comes along asking questions it keeps him quiet to find a copybook and a speller about. But they don't worry us much. We give 'em a couple of free passes to the best seats, and that soothes them."
"Will I have to do lessons?"
"Don't see how you can. Oh, we'11 hide you easy enough—they can't chase all round the Circus for every hanger-on. Different with the Owner's child." There was a note in Mrs. Dan's voice that brought home more clearly to Hugh the difference that now existed between him and Nita. He could not understand it yet—yesterday he had been the son of the Farm Owner, almost an important person. Today he was a deserted boy, with the terror of the police looming near. There was a gulf slowly widening between him and the child with whom he had played.
When the brass-work was done there were no more jobs. Nita was crouched on the floor, her hair completely hiding her face as she bent over her book, laboriously spelling "g—o—t—e, goat," which meant nothing what-