them things seemed to ’ave come out of the same box, like, an’ I didn’t like feelin’ as ’ow they was all jest charity....  ‘Owever, I got this idee about Elbert, an’ I didn’t sleep a wink thet night, an’ couldn’t enjoy me starlight.  In the mornin’ ’e come as usual, with ‘is pretty blind smile, an’ I ses to ’im:  ‘Elbert,’ I ses, ’You ain’t a crool boy, are you?  You wouldn’t do anythink to ‘urt me?’ Lookin’ at ’im, I couldn’t believe it. ‘’Urt you?’ ’e ses quite ’appily; ‘an’ why wouldn’t I ’urt you?  I’d as lief send you to the Devil as not,’ ‘e ses.  Well, cocky, I don’t mind tellin’ you I lost me ’ead at that.  I run awiy—­run awiy from my Elbert—­Oh, Gosh!  I bin an’ give up me bits o’ sticks to a neighbour, an’ got a place, an’ went into service.  I sneaked out one night, when Elbert ’ad gone ’ome.  I got a place up Kilburn way, an ol’ couple, retired from the pawnbrokin’ line.  The ol’ man ’ad softening in ‘is brain, an’ said one thing all the blessed time, murmurin’ like a bee.  The ol’ woman never spoke, never did no work, lef’ it all to me.  She was always a-readin’ of ’er postcard album, shiftin’ the cards about—­she ’ad thousands, besides one ’ole book full of seaside comics.  A beautiful collection.  Well, I was dishin’ up the tea one night in the kitchen, an’ I ’eard a laugh—­Elbert’s laugh, like three little bells—­an’ there was Elbert lookin’ in at the window.  I run after ’im—­there wasn’t nobody there.  When I come back the tripe was burnt an’ I lef’ it on the fire an’ run away, thet minute.  They owed me wages, but I didn’t stop for nothink.  I was frightened.  I got a place afterwards up Islington, three ol’ sisters, kep’ a fancy shop, fought with each other every minute of their lives.  I ’adn’t bin there two days before Elbert walked in, jest as laughin’ an’ lovin’ as ever.  I see then it was no use, good or bad ’e’d got me.  I let ’im sit in my kitchen, an’ give ‘im some sugar-bread.  An’ one of the ol’ cat-sisters come in. ‘’Oo’s this?’ she ses.  ‘A young friend o’ mine,’ I ses.  ‘You’re a liar,’ she ses, ’I seed from the first minute as you wasn’t no respectable gal,’ she ses, ‘an’ now per’aps me sisters’ll believe me.  So out I ‘ad to go, an’ I wasn’t sorry.  It seemed like there wasn’t nothink in the world mattered but Elbert, like as if damnation was worth while.  ‘Ow, Elbert,’ I ses, ‘I’d go to the Devil for you, an’ smile all the way.’  ‘E laughed an’ laughed.  ‘Come on,’ ’e ses, ’to-day’s an ‘oliday.’  Though it wasn’t, it was a Tuesday in August.  ‘Come on,’ ’e ses, ’get yer best ‘at on,’ an’ ’e gives me a yaller rose, for me button-’ole.  A year ago come August, thet was.  I follered Elbert at a run all up the City Road, an’ near the Angel we took a taxi.  ’Tell ’im Euston Station,’ ses Elbert, an’ so I did.  You know the ‘uge top o’ thet station from the ’ill by the Angel—­well, kid, I tell you I saw a reel mountain for the first time, when I saw thet.  It was the ‘eat mist, an’ a sort o’ pink light made a reel ’ighland