4 The Real Charlotte. 



all his masculine advantage of costume and his two years of 

 seniority, would have found it as much as he could do to 

 catch her. But on this untoward day the traitorous new 

 side spring boots played her false. That decorative band 

 of white stitching across the toes began to press upon her 

 like a vice, and, do what she would, she knew that she 

 could not keep her lead much longer. Strategy was her 

 only resource. Swinging herself round a friendly lamp-post, 

 she stopped short with a suddenness that compelled her 

 pursuer to shoot past her, and with an inspiration whose 

 very daring made it the more delirious, she darted across 

 the street, and sprang into a milk-cart that was waiting at a 

 door. The meek white horse went on at once, and, with a 

 breathless, goading hiss to hasten him, she tried to gather 

 up the reins. Unfortunately, however, it happened that 

 these were under his tail, and the more she tugged at them 

 the tighter he clasped them to him, and the more lively be- 

 came his trot. In spite of an irrepressible alarm as to the 

 end of the adventure, Francie still retained sufficient pres- 

 ence of mind to put out her tongue at her baffled enemy, 

 as, seated in front of the milk-cans, she clanked past him 

 and the other children. There was a chorus, in tones vary- 

 ing from admiration to horror, of, *' Oh ! look at Francie 

 Fitzpatrick ! " and then Tommy Whitty's robuster accents, 

 ** Ye'd better look out ! the milkman's after ye ! " 



Francie looked round, and with terror beheld that func- 

 tionary in enraged pursuit. It was vain to try blandish- 

 ments with the horse, now making for his stable at a good 

 round trot ; vainer still to pull at the reins. They were 

 nearing the end of the long street, and Francie and the 

 milkman, from their different points of view, were feeling 

 equally helpless and despairing, when a young man came 

 round the corner, and apparently taking in the situation at 

 a glance, ran out into the road, and caught the horse by the 

 bridle. 



" Well, upon my word, Miss Francie," he said, as Miss 

 Fitzpatrick hurriedly descended from the cart. " You're a 

 nice young lady ! What on earth are you up to now ? " 



" Oh, Mr. Lambert — " began Francie ; but having got 

 thus far in her statement, she perceived the justly incensed 

 niilkman close upon her. and once more taking to her heels, 



