It sounded friendly.
"Is this the Orph'nige?
What they call 'Oly Innercents ?" she asked.
"That's so," the young coalheaver answered.

"Want to get in ?" "I do an' I don't," said Tilda.
"Then take my advice an' don't." He resumed his shovelling, and Tilda watched him for a while.
"Nice dorg," said he, breaking off and throwing an affable nod towards Godolphus who, having attracted no attention by flinging himself on the grass with a lolling tongue and every appearance of fatigue, was now filling up the time in quest of a flea.

"No breed, but he has points.
Where did you pick him up ?" "He belongs to a show." "Crystal Pallus ?" "And," pursued Tilda, "I was wonderin' if you'd look after him while I step inside ?" She threw back her head, and the man whistled.
"You're a trustin' one, I must say!" "You'd never be mean enough to make off with 'im, an' I won't believe it of you," spoke up Tilda boldly.
"Eh?
I wasn' talkin of the dorg," he explained.

"I was meanin' the Orph'nage.

By all accounts 'tisn' so easy to get in--an' 'tis a sight harder to get out." "I've _got_ to get in," urged Tilda desperately.
"I've a message for someone inside.