Raby had come home with a strange story from Storr Alley that afternoon.
She was not much given to romance, but to her there was something
pathetic about this man "John" and his unceremonious adoption of those
orphan children. She had not seen anything exactly like it, and it
moved both her admiration and her curiosity.
She had heard much about "John" from the neighbours, and all she had
heard had been of the right sort. Jonah had talked bitterly of him now
and then, but before he died he had acknowledged that John had been his
only friend. Little Annie had never mentioned him without a smile
brightening her face; and even those who had complaints to pour out
about everybody all round could find nothing to say about him. Yet she
seemed destined never to see him.
The next day, at her usual time, Raby turned her steps to Storr Alley.
Groups of people stood about in the court, and it was evident, since she
was last there, something untoward had happened. A fireman's helmet at
the other end of the alley, in the passage leading to Driver's Court,
told its own tale; and if that was not enough, the smell of fire and the
bundles of rags and broken furniture which blocked up the narrow
pathway, were sufficient evidence.
The exiles from Driver's stared hard at the young lady as she made her
way through the crowd; but the people of Storr Alley treated her as a
friend, and she had no lack of information as to the calamity of the
preceding night.
Raby paid several visits on her way up. Then, with some trepidation,
she knocked at the door of the garret. There was no reply from within
till she turned the handle, and said--
"May I come in?"