Show-folks," he added thoughtfully, "likes travellin' by night, I'm told.

It's cooler." Two hours later, as the Brewery clock struck eleven, a canal-boat, towed by a glimmering grey horse, glided southward under the shadow of the Orphanage wall.

It passed this and the iron bridge, and pursued its way through the dark purlieus of Bursfield towards the open country.
Its rate of progression was steady, and a trifle under three miles an hour.
Astride the grey horse sat Mr.Mortimer, consciously romantic.
The darkness, the secrecy of the flight--the prospect of recovered liberty--beyond this, the goal! As he rode, Mr.Mortimer murmured beatifically-- "To Stratford! To Stratford-on-Avon!" Sam Bossom stood on the small after-deck and steered.

In the cabin Mrs.Mortimer snatched what repose was possible on a narrow side-locker to a person of her proportions; and on the cabin floor at her feet, in a nest of theatrical costumes, the two children slept dreamlessly, tired out, locked in each others arms..