"I congratulate you, Mr Mellon," said the City man, shaking me warmly by the hand.

"You have acted with admirable promptitude—which is most important at a fire—and they tell me that the header you took into the escape, with Miss Blythe in your arms, was the finest acrobatic feat that has been seen off the stage."

"I say, Dobson, where have you stowed my wife and the children? I want to introduce him to them."

"In the dining-room," returned the City man. "You see, I thought it would be more agreeable that they should be all together until their nerves are calmed, so I had mattresses, blankets, etcetera, brought down. Being a bachelor, as you know, I could do nothing more than place the wardrobes of my domestics at the disposal of the ladies. The things are not, indeed, a very good fit, but—this way, Mr Mellon."

The City man, who was tall and handsome, ushered his guests into what he styled his hospital, and there, ranged in a row along the wall, were five shakedowns, with a child on each. Seldom have I beheld a finer sight than the sparkling lustre of their ten still glaring eyes! Two pleasant young domestics were engaged in feeding the smaller ones with jam and pudding. We arrange the words advisedly, because the jam was, out of all proportion, too much for the pudding. The elder children were feeding themselves with the same materials, and in the same relative proportions. Mrs McTougall, in a blue cotton gown with white spots, which belonged to the housemaid, reclined on a sofa; she was deadly pale, and the expression of horror was not quite removed from her countenance.

Beside her, administering restoratives, sat Miss Blythe, in a chintz dress belonging to the cook, which was ridiculously too large for her. She was dishevelled and flushed, and looked so pleasantly anxious about Mrs McTougall that I almost forgave her having robbed me of my doggie.

"Miss Blythe, your deliverer!" cried the little doctor, who seemed to delight in blowing my trumpet with the loudest possible blast; "my dear, your preserver!"

I bowed in some confusion, and stammered something incoherently. Mrs McTougall said something else, languidly, and Miss Blythe rose and held out her hand with a pleasant smile.

"Well, if this isn't one of the very jolliest larks I ever had!" exclaimed Master Harry from his corner, between two enormous spoonfuls.

"Hah!" exclaimed Master Jack.

He could say no more. He was too busy!

We all laughed, and, much to my relief, general attention was turned to the little ones.

"You young scamps!—the 'lark' will cost me some thousands of pounds," said the doctor.

"Never mind, papa. Just go to the bank and they'll give you as much as you want."

"More pooding!" demanded Master Job. The pleasant-faced domestic hesitated.

"Oh! give it him. Act the banker on this occasion, and give him as much as he wants," said the doctor.

"Good papa!" exclaimed the overjoyed Jenny; "how I wis' we had a house on fire every night!"

Even Dolly crowed with delight at this, as if she really appreciated the idea, and continued her own supper with increased fervour.

Thus did that remarkable family spend the small hours of that morning, while their home was being burned to ashes.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

MY CIRCUMSTANCES BEGIN TO BRIGHTEN.

"Robin," said old Mrs Willis from her bed, in the wheeziest of voices.

"Who's Robin, granny?" demanded young Slidder, in some surprise, looking over his shoulder as he stooped at the fire to stir a pan of gruel.

"You are Robin," returned the old lady following up the remark with a feeble sneeze. "I can't stand Slidder. It is such an ugly name. Besides, you ought to have a Christian name, child. Don't you like Robin?"

The boy chuckled a little as he stirred the gruel.

"Vell, I ain't had it long enough to 'ave made up my mind on the p'int, but you may call me wot you please, granny, s'long as you don't swear. I'll answer to Robin, or Bobin, or Dobin, or Nobin, or Flogin—no, by the way, I won't answer to Flogin. I don't like that. But why call me Robin?"

"Ah!" sighed the old woman, "because I once had a dear little son so named. He died when he was about your age, and your kindly ways are so like his that—"

"Hallo, granny!" interrupted Slidder, standing up with a look of intense surprise, "are you took bad?"

"No. Why?"

"'Cause you said suthin' about my ways that looks suspicious."

"Did I, Robin? I didn't mean to. But as I was saying, I'd like to call you Robin because it reminds me of my little darling who is now in heaven. Ah! Robin was so gentle, and loving, and tender, and true, and kind. He was a good boy!"

A wheezing, which culminated in another feeble sneeze, here silenced the poor old thing.

For some minutes after that Slidder devoted himself to vigorous stirring of the gruel, and to repressed laughter, which latter made him very red in the face, and caused his shoulders to heave convulsively. At last he sought relief in occasional mutterings.

"On'y think!" he said, quoting Mrs Willis's words, in a scarcely audible whisper, "'so gentle, an' lovin', an' tender, an' true, an' kind'—an' sitch a good boy too—an' my kindly ways is like his, are they? Well, well, Mrs W, it's quite clear that a loo-natic asylum must be your native 'ome arter this."

"What are you muttering about, Robin?"

"Nuffin' partikler, granny. On'y suthin' about your futur' prospec's. The gruel's ready, I think. Will you 'ave it now, or vait till you get it?"

"There—even in your little touches of humour you're so like him!" said the old woman, with a mingled smile and sneeze, as she slowly rose to a sitting posture, making a cone of the bedclothes with her knees, on which she laid her thin hands.

"Come now, old 'ooman," said Slidder seriously, "if you go on jokin' like that you'll make me larf and spill your gruel—p'raps let it fall bash on the floor. There! Don't let it tumble off your knees, now; I'd adwise you to lower 'em for the time bein'. Here's the spoon; it ain't as bright as I could wish, but you can't expect much of pewter; an' the napkin—that's your sort; an' the bit of bread—which it isn't too much for a 'ealthy happetite. Now then, granny, go in and win!"

"So like," murmured the old woman, as she gazed in Slidder's face. "And it is so good of you to give up your play and come to look after a helpless old creature like me."

"Yes, it is wery good of me," assented the boy, with an air of profound gravity; "I was used to sleep under a damp archway or in a wet cask, now I slumbers in a 'ouse by a fire, under a blankit. Vunce on a time I got wittles any'ow—sometimes didn't get 'em at all; now I 'ave 'em riglar, as well as good, an' 'ot. In wot poets call 'the days gone by'—an' nights too, let me tell you—I wos kicked an' cuffed by everybody, an' 'unted to death by bobbies. Now I'm—let alone! 'Eavenly condition—let alone! sometimes even complimented with such pleasant greetings as 'Go it, Ginger!' or 'Does your mother know you're out?' Oh yes, granny! I made great sacrifices, I did, w'en I come 'ere to look arter you!"

Mrs Willis smiled, sneezed, and began her gruel. Slidder, who looked at her with deep interest, was called away by a knock at the door. Opening it he beheld a tall footman, with a parcel in his hand.

"Does a Mrs Willis live here?" he asked.

"No," replied Slidder; "a Mrs Willis don't live here, but the Mrs Willis—the on'y one vurth speakin' of—does."

"Ah!" replied the man, with a smile—for he was an amiable footman—"and I suppose you are young Slidder?"

"I am Mister Slidder, sir! And I would 'ave you remember," said the urchin, with dignity, "that every Englishman's 'ouse is his castle, and that neither imperence nor flunkies 'as a right to enter."

"Indeed!" exclaimed the man, with affected surprise, "then I'm afraid this castle can't be a strong one, or it ain't well guarded, for 'Imperence' got into it somehow when you entered."

"Good, good!" returned the boy, with the air of a connoisseur; "that's worthy of the East End. You should 'ave bin one of us.—Now then, old six-foot! wot's your business?"

"To deliver this parcel."

"'And it over, then."

"But I am also to see Mrs Willis, and ask how she is."

"Walk in, then, an' wipe your feet. We ain't got a door-mat to-day. It's a-comin', like Christmas; but you may use the boards in the meantime."

The footman turned out to be a pleasant, gossipy man, and soon won the hearts of old Mrs Willis and her young guardian. He had been sent, he said, by a Dr McTougall with a parcel containing wine, tea, sugar, rice, and a few other articles of food, and with a message that the doctor would call and see Mrs Willis that afternoon.

"Deary me, that's very kind," said the old woman; "but I wonder why he sent such things to me, and who told him I was in want of 'em?"

"It was a young gentleman who rescued most of the doctor's family from a fire last night. His name, I believe, is Mellon—"

"Wot! Doctor John Mellon?" exclaimed Slidder, with widening eyes.

"Whether he's John or doctor I cannot tell. All I know is that he's Mister Mellon, and he's bin rather knocked up by—But, bless me, I forgot: I was to say nothing about the—the fire till Dr McTougall had seen you. How stoopid of me; but things will slip out!"

He stopped abruptly, and placed his brown paper parcel on the bed.

"Now, I say, look here, Mister Six-foot or wotever's your name," said Slidder, with intense eagerness. "It's of no use your tyin' up the mouth o' the bag now. The cat's got out an' can't be got in again by no manner o' means. Just make a clean breast of it, an' tell it all out like a man,—there's a good feller! If you don't, I'll tell Dr McTougall that you gave me an' the old lady a full, true, an' partikler account o' the whole affair, from the fust bustin' out o' the flames, an' the calling o' the ingines, to the last crash o' the fallin' roof, and the roastin' alive of the 'ousehold cat. I will, as sure as you're a six-foot flunkey!"

Thus adjured and threatened, the gossipy footman made a clean breast of it. He told them how that I had acted like a hero at the fire, and then, after giving, in minute detail, an account of all that the reader already knows, he went on to say that the whole family, except Dr McTougall, was laid up with colds; that the governess was in a high fever; that the maid-servants, having been rescued on the shoulders of firemen from the attics, were completely broken down in their nerves; and that I had received an injury to my right leg, which, although I had said nothing about it on the night of the fire, had become so much worse in the morning that I could scarcely walk across the room. In these circumstances, he added, Dr McTougall had agreed to visit my poor people for me until I should recover.

"You see," continued the footman, "I only heard a little of their conversation. Dr McTougall was saying when I come into the room: 'Well, Mr Mellon,' he said, 'you must of necessity remain where you are, and you could not, let me tell you, be in better quarters. I will look after your patients till you are able to go about again—which won't be long, I hope—and I'll make a particular note of your old woman, and send her some wine and things immediately.' I suppose he meant you, ma'am," added the footman, "but having to leave the room again owing to some of the children howling for jam and pudding, I heard no more."

Having thus delivered himself of his tale and parcel, the tall footman took his leave with many expressions of good-will.

"Now, granny," remarked young Slidder, as he untied the parcel, and spread its contents on the small deal table, "I've got a wague suspicion that the 'ouse w'ich 'as gone to hashes is the wery 'ouse in w'ich Dr Mellon put his little dog last night. 'Cause why? Ain't it the same identical street, an' the same side o' the street, and about the same part o' the street? An' didn't both him and me forgit to ask the name o' the people o' the 'ouse, or to look at the number—so took up was we with partin' from Punch? Wot more nat'ral than for him to go round on 'is way back to look at the 'ouse—supposin' he was too late to call? Then, didn't that six-footer say a terrier dog was reskooed from the lower premises? To be sure there's many a terrier dog in London, but then didn't he likewise say that the gov'ness o' the family is a pretty gal? Wot more likely than that she's my young lady? All that, you see, granny, is what the magistrates would call presumptuous evidence. But I'll go and inquire for myself this wery evenin' w'en you're all settled an comf'rable, an' w'en I've got Mrs Jones to look arter you."

That evening, accordingly, when Robin Slidder—as I shall now call him— was away making his inquiries, Dr McTougall called on Mrs Willis. She was very weak and low at the time. The memory of her lost Edie had been heavy upon her, and she felt strangely disinclined to talk. The kindly doctor did not disturb her more than was sufficient to fully investigate her case.

When about to depart he took Mrs Jones into the passage.

"Now, my good woman," he said, "I hope you will see the instructions you heard me give to Mrs Willis carried out. She is very low, but with good food and careful nursing may do well. Can you give her much of your time?"

"La, sir! yes. I'm a lone woman, sir, with nothin' to do but take care of myself; an' I'm that fond of Mrs Willis—she's like my own mother."

"Very good. And what of this boy who has come to live with her? D'you think he is steady—to be depended on?"

"Indeed I do, sir!" replied Mrs Jones, with much earnestness. "Though he did come from nowheres in partiklar, an' don't b'long to nobody, he's a good boy, is little Slidder, and a better nurse you'll not find in all the hospitals."

"I wish I had found him at home. Will you give him this card, and tell him to call on me to-morrow morning between eight and nine? Let him ask particularly for me—Dr McTougall. I'm not in my own house, but in a friend's at present; I was burnt out of my house last night."

"Oh, sir!" exclaimed Mrs Jones with a shocked expression.

"Yes; accidents will happen, you know, to the most careful among us, Mrs Jones," said the little doctor, with a smile, as he drew on his gloves. "Good evening. Take care of your patient now; I'm much interested in her case—because of the young doctor who visits her sometimes."

"Dr Mellon?" exclaimed the woman.

"Yes. You know him?"

"Know him! I should think I do! He has great consideration for the poor. Ah! he is a gentleman, is Mr Mellon!"

"He is more than a gentleman, Mrs Jones," said the little doctor with a kindly nod, as he turned and hurried away.

It may perhaps seem to savour of vanity and egotism my recording this conversation, but I do it chiefly for the purpose of showing how much of hearty gratitude there is for mere trifles among the poor, for the woman who was thus complimentary to me never received a farthing of money from my hands, and I am not aware of having ever taken any notice of her, except now and then wishing her a respectful good-evening, and making a few inquiries as to her health.

That night Dr McTougall came to me, on returning from his rounds, to report upon my district. I was in bed at the time, and suffering considerable pain from my bruised and swollen limb. Dumps was lying at my feet—dried, refreshed, and none the worse for his adventures. I may mention that I occupied a comfortable room in the house of the "City man," who insisted on my staying with him until I should be quite able to walk to my lodgings. As Dr McTougall had taken my district, a brief note to Mrs Miff, my landlady, relieved my mind of all anxieties, professional and domestic, so that my doggie and I could enjoy ourselves as well as the swollen leg would permit.

"My dear young friend," said the little doctor, as he entered, "your patients are all going on admirably, and as I mean to send my assistant to them regularly, you may make your mind quite easy. I've seen your old woman too, and she is charming. I don't wonder you lost your heart to her. Your young protege, however, was absent—the scamp!—but he had provided a good nurse to take his place in the person of Mrs Jones."

"I know her—well," said I; "she is a capital nurse. Little Slidder has, I am told, been here in your absence, but unfortunately the maid who opened the door to him would not let him see me, as I happened to be asleep at the time. However, he'll be sure to call again. But you have not told me yet how Miss Blythe is."

"Well, I've not had time to tell you," replied the doctor, with a smile. "I'm sorry to say she is rather feverish; the excitement and exposure to the night air were a severe trial to her, for although she is naturally strong, it is not long since she recovered from a severe illness. Nothing, however, surprises me so much as the way in which my dear wife has come through it all. It seems to have given her quite a turn in the right direction. Why, she used to be as timid as a mouse! Now she scoffs at burglars. After what occurred last night she says she will fear nothing under the sun. Isn't it odd? As for the children, I'm afraid the event has roused all that is wild and savage in their natures! They were kicking up a horrible shindy when I passed the dining-room—the hospital, as Dobson calls it—so I opened the door and peeped in. There they were, all standing up on their beds, shouting 'Fire! fire! p'leece! p'leece!—engines! escapes! Come qui-i-i-ck!'

"'Silence!' I shouted.

"'Oh, papa!' they screamed, in delight, 'what do you think we've had for supper?'

"'Well, what?'

"'Pudding and jam-pudding and jam—nearly all jam!'

"Then they burst again into a chorus of yells for engines and fire-escapes, while little Dolly's voice rang high above the rest 'Pudding and dam!—all dam!—p'leece! p'leece! fire and feeves!' as I shut the door.

"But now, a word in your ear before I leave you for the night. Perhaps it may not surprise you to be told that I have an extensive practice. After getting into a new house, which I must do immediately, I shall want an assistant, who may in course of time, perhaps, become a partner. D'you understand? Are you open to a proposal?"

"My dear sir," said I, "your kindness is very great, but you know that I am not yet—"

"Yes, yes, I know all about that. I merely wish to inject an idea into your brain, and leave it there to fructify. Go to sleep now, my dear young fellow, and let me wish you agreeable dreams."

With a warm squeeze of the hand, and a pleasant nod, my new friend said good-night, and left me to my meditations.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

LITTLE SLIDDER RESISTS TEMPTATION SUCCESSFULLY, AND I BECOME ENSLAVED.

"Pompey," said I, one afternoon, while reclining on the sofa in Dobson's drawing-room, my leg being not yet sufficiently restored to admit of my going out—"Pompey, I've got news for you."

To my surprise my doggie would not answer to that name at all when I used it, though he did so when it was used by Miss Blythe.

"Dumps!" I said, in a somewhat injured tone.

Ears and tail at once replied.

"Come now, Punch," I said, rather sternly; "I'll call you what I please—Punch, Dumps, or Pompey—because you are my dog still, at least as long as your mistress and I live under the same roof; so, sir, if you take the Dumps when I call you Pompey, I'll punch your head for you."

Evidently the dog thought this a very flat jest, for he paid no attention to it whatever.

"Now, Dumps, come here and let's be friends. Who do you think is coming to stay with us—to stay altogether? You'll never guess. Your old friend and first master, little Slidder, no less. Think of that!"

Dumps wagged his tail vigorously; whether at the news, or because of pleasure at my brushing the hair off his soft brown eyes, and looking into them, I cannot tell.

"Yes," I continued, "it's quite true. This fire will apparently be the making of little Slidder, as well as you and me, for we are all going to live and work together. Isn't that nice? Evidently Dr McTougall is a trump, and so is his friend Dobson, who puts this fine mansion at his disposal until another home can be got ready for us."

I was interrupted at this point by an uproarious burst of laughter from the doctor himself, who had entered by the open door unobserved by me. I joined in the laugh against myself, but blushed, nevertheless, for man does not like, as a rule, to be caught talking earnestly either to himself or to a dumb creature.

"Why, Mellon," he said, sitting down beside me, and patting my dog, "I imagined from your tones, as I entered, that you were having some serious conversation with my wife."

"No; Mrs McTougall has not yet returned from her drive. I was merely having a chat with Dumps. I had of late, in my lodgings, got into a way of thinking aloud, as it were, while talking to my dog. I suppose it was with an unconscious desire to break the silence of my room."

"No doubt, no doubt," replied the doctor, with a touch of sympathy in his tone. "You must have been rather lonely in that attic of yours. And yet do you know, I sometimes sigh for the quiet of such an attic! Perhaps when you've been some months under the same roof with these miniature thunderstorms, Jack, Harry, Job, Jenny, and Dolly, you'll long to go back to the attic."

A tremendous thump on the floor overhead, followed by a wild uproar, sent the doctor upstairs—three steps at a stride. I sat prudently still till he returned, which he did in a few minutes, laughing.

"What d'you think it was?" he cried, panting. "Only my Dolly tumbling off the chest of drawers. My babes have many pleasant little games. Among others, cutting off the heads of dreadful traitors is a great favourite. They roll up a sheet into a ball for the head. Then each of them is led in turn to the scaffold, which is the top of a chest of drawers. One holds the ball against the criminal's shoulders, another cuts it off with a wooden knife, a basket receives it below, then one of them takes it out, and, holding it aloft shouts 'Behold the head of a traitor!' It seems that four criminals had been safely decapitated, and Dolly was being led to the fatal block, when she slipped her foot and fell to the ground, overturning Harry and a chair in her descent. That was all."

"Not hurt, I hope?"

"Oh no! They never get hurt—seriously hurt, I mean. As to black-and-blue shins, scratches, cuts, and bumps, they may be said to exist in a perpetually maimed condition."

"Strange!" said I musingly, "that they should like to play at such a disagreeable subject."

"Disagreeable!" exclaimed my friend, "pooh! that's nothing. You should see them playing at the horrors of the Inquisition. My poor wife sometimes shudders at the idea that we have been gifted with five monsters of cruelty, but any one can see with half an eye that it is a fine sense of the propriety of retributive justice that influences them."

"Any one who chooses to go and look at the five innocent faces when they are asleep," said I, laughing, "can see with a quarter of an eye that you and Mrs McTougall are to be congratulated on the nature of your little ones."

"Of course we are, my dear fellow," returned the doctor with enthusiasm. "But—to change the subject—has little Slidder been here to-day?"

"Not that I know of."

"Ah! there he is" said the doctor, as, at that instant, the door-bell rang; "there is insolence in the very tone of his ring. He has pulled the visitor's bell, too, and there goes the knocker! Of all the imps that walk, a London street-boy is—" The sentence was cut short by the opening of the door and the entrance of my little protege. He had evidently got himself up for the occasion, for his shoeblack uniform had been well brushed, his hands and face severely washed, and his hair plastered well down with soap-and-water.

"Come in, Slidder—that's your name, isn't it?" said the doctor.

"It is, sir—Robin Slidder, at your sarvice," replied the urchin, giving me a familiar nod. "'Ope your leg ain't so cranky as it wos, sir. Gittin' all square, eh?"

I repressed a smile with difficulty as I replied—"It is much better, thank you. Attend to what Dr McTougall has to say to you."

"Hall serene," he replied, looking with cool urbanity in the doctor's face, "fire away!"

"You're a shoeblack, I see," said the doctor.

"That's my purfession."

"Do you like it?"

"Vell, w'en it's dirty weather, with lots o' mud, an' coppers goin', I does. W'en it's all sunshine an' starwation, I doesn't."

"My friend Mr Mellon tells me that you're a very good boy."

Little Slidder looked at me with a solemn, reproachful air.

"Oh! what a wopper!" he said.

We both laughed at this.

"Come, Slidder," said I, "you must learn to treat us with more respect, else I shall have to change my opinion of you."

"Wery good, sir, that's your business, not mine. I wos inwited here, an' here I am. Now, wot 'ave you got to say to me?—that's the p'int."

"Can you read and write?" resumed the doctor.

"Cern'ly not," replied the boy, with the air of one who had been insulted; "wot d'you take me for? D'you think I'm a genius as can read an' write without 'avin' bin taught or d'you think I'm a monster as wos born readin' an' writin'? I've 'ad no school to go to nor nobody to putt me there."

"I thought the School Board looked after such as you."

"So they does, sir; but I've been too many for the school-boarders."

"Then it's your own fault that you've not been taught?" said the doctor, somewhat severely.

"Not at all," returned the urchin, with quiet assurance. "It's the dooty o' the school-boarders to ketch me, an' they can't ketch me. That's not my fault. It's my superiority."

My friend looked at the little creature before him with much surprise. After a few seconds' contemplation and thought, he continued—"Well, Slidder, as my friend here says you are a good sort of boy, I am bound to believe him, though appearances are somewhat against you. Now, I am in want of a smart boy at present, to attend to the hall-door, show patients into my consulting-room, run messages—in short, make himself generally useful about the house. How would such a situation suit you?"

"W'y, doctor," said the boy, ignoring the question, "how could any boy attend on your 'all-door w'en it's burnt to hashes?"

"We will manage to have another door," replied Dr McTougall, with a forbearing smile; "meanwhile you could practise on the door of this house.—But that is not answering my question, boy. How would you like the place? You'd have light work, a good salary, pleasant society below stairs, and a blue uniform. In short, I'd make a page-in-buttons of you."

"Wot about the wittles?" demanded this remarkable boy.

"Of course you'd fare as well as the other servants," returned the doctor, rather testily, for his opinion of my little friend was rapidly falling; I could see that, to my regret.

"Now give me an answer at once," he continued sharply. "Would you like to come?"

"Not by no manner of means," replied Slidder promptly.

We both looked at him in amazement.

"Why, Slidder, you stupid fellow!" said I, "what possesses you to refuse so good an offer?"

"Dr Mellon," he replied, turning on me with a flush of unwonted earnestness, "d'you think I'd be so shabby, so low, so mean, as to go an' forsake Granny Willis for all the light work an' good salaries and pleasant society an' blue-uniforms-with-buttons in London? Who'd make 'er gruel? Who'd polish 'er shoes every mornin' till you could see to shave in 'em, though she don't never put 'em on? Who'd make 'er bed an' light 'er fires an' fetch 'er odd bits o' coal? An' who'd read the noos to 'er, an'—"

"Why, Slidder," interrupted Dr McTougall, "you said just now that you could not read."

"No more I can, sir but I takes in a old newspaper to 'er every morning', an' sets myself down by the fire with it before me an' pretends to read. I inwents the noos as I goes along; an you should see that old lady's face, an' the way 'er eyes opens we'n I'm a tapin' off the murders an' the 'ighway robberies, an' the burglaries an' the fires at 'ome, an' the wars an' earthquakes an' other scrimmages abroad. It do cheer 'er up most wonderful. Of course, I stick in any hodd bits o' real noos I 'appens to git hold of, but I ain't partickler."

"Apparently not," said the doctor, laughing. "Well, I see it's of no use tempting you to forsake your present position—indeed, I would not wish you to leave it. Some day I may find means to have old Mrs Willis taken better care of, and then—well, we shall see. Meanwhile, I respect your feelings. Good-bye, and give my regards to granny. Say I'll be over to see her soon."

"Stay," said I, as the boy turned to leave, "you never told me that one of your names was Robin."

"'Cause it wasn't w'en I saw you last; I only got it a few days ago."

"Indeed! From whom?"

"From Granny Willis. She gave me the name, an' I likes it, an' mean to stick by it—Good arternoon, gen'lemen. Ta, ta, Punch."

At the word my doggie bounced from under my hand and began to leap joyfully round the boy.

"I say," said Robin, pausing at the door and looking back, "she's all right I 'ope. Gittin' better?"

"Who do you mean?"

"W'y, the guv'ness, in course—my young lady."

"Oh, yes! I am happy to say she is better," said the doctor, much amused by the anxious look of the face, which had hitherto been the quintessence of cool self-possession. "But she has had a great shake, and will have to be sent to the country for change of air when we can venture to move her."

I confess that I was much surprised, but not a little gratified, by the very decided manner in which Slidder avowed his determination to stand fast by the poor old woman in whom I had been led to take so strong an interest. Hitherto I had felt some uncertainty as to how far I could depend on the boy's affection for Mrs Willis, and his steadiness of purpose; now I felt quite sure of him.

Dr McTougall felt as I did in the matter, and so did his friend the City man. I had half expected that Dobson would have laughed at us for what he sometimes styled our softness, because he had so much to do with sharpers and sharp practice, but I was mistaken. He quite agreed with us in our opinion of my little waif, and spoke admiringly of those who sought, through evil and good report, to rescue our "City Arabs" from destruction. And Dobson did more than speak: he gave liberally out of his ample fortune to the good cause.

That evening, just after the gas was lighted, while I was lying on the sofa thinking of these things, and toying with Dumps's ears, the door opened and Mrs McTougall entered, with Miss Blythe leaning on her arm. It was the first time she had come down to the drawing-room since her illness. She was thin, and pale, but to my mind more beautiful than ever, for her brown eyes seemed to grow larger and more lustrous as they beamed upon me.

I leaped up, sending an agonising shoot of pain through my leg, and hastened to meet her. Dumps, as if jealous of me, sprang wildly on before, and danced round his mistress in a whirlwind of delight.

"I am so glad to see you, Miss Blythe," I stammered; "I had feared the consequences of that terrible night—that rude descent. You—you—are better, I—"

"Thank you; very much better," she replied, with a sweet smile; "and how shall I ever express my debt of gratitude to you, Mr Mellon?"

She extended her delicate hand. I grasped it; she shook mine heartily.

That shake fixed my fate. No doubt it was the simple and natural expression of a grateful heart for a really important service; but I cared nothing about that. She blushed as I looked at her, and stooped to pat the jealous and impatient Dumps.

"Sit here, darling, on this easy-chair," said Mrs McTougall; "you know the doctor allows you only half an hour—or an hour at most—to-night; you may be up longer to-morrow. There; and you are not to speak much, remember.—Mr Mellon, you must address yourself to me. Lilly is only allowed to listen.

"Yes, as you truly said, Mr Mellon," continued the good lady, who was somewhat garrulous, "her descent was rough, and indeed, so was mine. Oh! I shall never forget that rough monster into whose arms you thrust me that awful night; but he was a brave and strong monster too. He just gathered me up like a bundle of clothes, and went crashing down the blazing stair, through fire and smoke—and through bricks and mortar too, it seemed to me, from the noise and shocks. But we came out safe, thank God, and I had not a scratch, though I noticed that my monster's hair and beard were on fire, and his face was cut and bleeding. I can't think how he carried me so safely."

"Ah! the firemen have a knack of doing that sort of thing," said I, speaking to Mrs McTougall, but looking at Lilly Blythe.

"So I have heard. The brave, noble men," said Lilly, speaking to Mrs McTougall, but looking at me.

I know not what we conversed about during the remainder of that hour. Whether I talked sense or nonsense I cannot tell. The only thing I am quite sure of is that I talked incessantly, enthusiastically, to Mrs McTougall, but kept my eyes fixed on Lilly Blythe all the time; and I know that Lilly blushed a good deal, and bent her pretty head frequently over her "darling Pompey," and fondled him to his heart's content.

That night my leg violently resented the treatment it had received. When I slept I dreamed that I was on the rack, and that Miss Blythe, strange to say, was the chief tormentor, while Dumps quietly looked on and laughed—yes, deliberately laughed—at my sufferings.



CHAPTER NINE.

ON THE SCENT, BUT PUZZLED.

It was a considerable time after the fire before my leg permitted me to resume my studies and my duties among the poor. Meanwhile I had become a regularly-established inmate of Mr Dobson's house, and was half-jocularly styled "Dr McTougall's assistant."

I confess that I had some hesitation at first in accepting such generous hospitality, but, feeling that I could not help myself till my leg should recover, I became reconciled to it. Then, as time advanced, the doctor—who was an experimental chemist, as well as a Jack-of-all-trades—found me so useful to him in his laboratory, that I felt I was really earning my board and lodging. Meanwhile Lilly Blythe had been sent to visit an aunt of Dr McTougall's in Kent for the benefit of her health.

This was well. I felt it to be so. I knew that her presence would have a disturbing influence on my studies, which were by that time nearly completed. I felt, also, that it was madness in me to fall in love with a girl whom I could not hope to marry for years, even if she were willing to have me at all, which I very much doubted.

I therefore resolved to put the subject away from me, and devote myself heartily to my profession, in the spirit of that Word which tells us that whatsoever our hands find to do we should do it with our might.

Success attended my efforts. I passed all my examinations with credit, and became not only a fixture in the doctor's family, but as he earnestly assured me, a very great help to him.

Of course I did not mention the state of my feelings towards Lilly Blythe to any one—not being in the habit of having confidants—except indeed, to Dumps. In the snug little room just over the front door, which had been given to me as a study, I was wont to pour out many of my secret thoughts to my doggie, as he sat before me with cocked ears and demonstrative tail.

"You've been the making of me, Dumps," said I, one evening, not long after I had reached the first round of the ladder of my profession. "It was you who introduced me to Lilly Blythe, and through her to Dr McTougall, and you may be sure I shall never forget that! Nay, you must not be too demonstrative. When your mistress left you under my care she said, half-jocularly, no doubt that I was not to steal your heart from her. Wasn't that absurd, eh? As if any heart could be stolen from her! Of course I cannot regain your heart, Dumps, and I will not even attempt it—'Honour bright,' as Robin Slidder says. By the way, that reminds me that I promised to go down to see old Mrs Willis this very night, so I'll leave you to the tender mercies of the little McTougalls."

As I walked down the Strand my last remark to Dumps recurred to me, and I could not help smiling as I thought of the "tender mercies" to which I had referred. The reader already knows that the juvenile McTougalls were somewhat bloodthirsty in their notions of play. When Dumps was introduced to their nursery—by that time transferred from Dobson's dining-room to an upper floor—they at once adopted him with open arms. Dumps seemed to be willing, and, fortunately, turned out to be a dog of exceptionally good-nature. He was also tough. No amount of squeezing, bruising, pulling of the ears or tail, or falling upon him, either accidentally or on purpose, could induce him to bite. He did, indeed, yell hideously at times, when much hurt, and he snarled, barked, yelped, growled, and showed his teeth continually, but it was all in play, for he was dearly fond of romps.

Fortunately, the tall nurse had been born without nerves. She was wont to sit serene in a corner, darning innumerable socks, while a tornado was going on around her. Dumps became a sort of continual sacrifice. On all occasions when a criminal was to be decapitated, a burglar hanged, or a martyr burned, Dumps was the victim; and many a time was he rescued from impending and real death by the watchful nurse, who was too well aware of the innocent ignorance of her ferocious charges to leave Dumps entirely to their tender mercies.

On reaching Mrs Willis's little dwelling, I found young Slidder officiating at the tea-table. I could not resist watching him a moment through a crack in the door before entering.

"Now then," said he, "'ere you are! Set to work, old Sneezer, with a will!"

The boy had got into a facetious way of calling Mrs Willis by any term of endearment that suggested itself at the moment, which would have been highly improper and disrespectful if it had not been the outflow of pure affection.

The crack in the door was not large enough to permit of my seeing Mrs Willis herself as she sat in her accustomed window with the spout-and-chimney-pot view. I could only see the withered old hand held tremblingly out for the smoking cup of tea, which the boy handed to her with a benignant smile, and I could hear the soft voice say—"Thank you, Robin—dear boy—so like!"

"I tell you what it is, granny," returned Slidder, with a frown, "I'll give you up an' 'and you over to the p'leece if you go on comparin' me to other people in that way.—Now, then, 'ave some muffins. They're all 'ot and soaked in butter, old Gummy, just the wery thing for your teeth. Fire away, now! Wot's the use o' me an' Dr McTougall fetchin' you nice things if you won't eat 'em?"

"But I will eat 'em, Robin, thankfully."

"That ain't the way, old 'ooman," returned the boy, helping himself largely to the viands which he so freely dispensed; "it's not thankfully, but heartily, you ought to eat 'em."

"Both, Robin, both."

"Not at all, granny. We asked a blessin' fust, now, didn't we? Vell, then, wot we've to do next is to go in and win heartily. Arter that it's time enough to be thankful."

"What a boy it is!" responded Mrs Willis.

I saw the withered old hand disappear with a muffin in it in the direction of the old mouth, and at this point I entered.

"The wery man I wanted to see," exclaimed Slidder, jumping up with what I thought unusual animation, even for him.

"Come along, doctor, just in time for grub. Mrs W hain't eat up all the muffins yet. Fresh cup an' saucer; clean plate; ditto knife; no need for a fork; now then, sit down."

Accepting this hearty invitation, I was soon busy with a muffin, while Mrs Willis gave a slow, elaborate, and graphic account of the sayings and doings of Master Slidder, which account, I need hardly say, was much in his favour, and I am bound to add that he listened to it with pleased solemnity.

"Now then, old flatterer, w'en you've quite done, p'raps you'll tell the doctor that I wants a veek's leave of absence, an' then, p'raps you'll listen to what him an' me's got to say on that p'int. Just keep a stuffin' of yourself with muffins, an' don't speak."

The old lady nodded pleasantly, and began to eat with apparently renewed appetite, while I turned in some surprise.

"A week's leave of absence?" said I.

"Just so—a veek's leave of absence—furlow if you prefers to call it so. The truth is, I wants a 'oliday wery bad. Granny says so, an' I thinks she's right. D'you think my constitootion's made o' brass, or cast-iron, or bell-metal, that I should be able to york on an' on for ever, black, black, blackin' boots an' shoes, without a 'oliday? W'y, lawyers, merchants, bankers—even doctors—needs a 'oliday now an' then; 'ow much more shoeblacks!"

"Well," said I, with a laugh, "there is no reason why shoeblacks should not require and desire a holiday as much as other people, only it's unusual—because they cannot afford it, I suppose."

"Ah! 'that's just w'ere the shoe pinches'—as a old gen'leman shouted to me t'other day, with a whack of his umbreller, w'en I scrubbed 'is corns too hard. 'Right you are, old stumps,' says I, 'but you'll have to pay tuppence farden hextra for that there whack, or be took up for assault an' battery.' D'you know that gen'leman larfed, he did, like a 'iaena, an' paid the tuppence down like a man. I let 'im off the farden in consideration that he 'adn't got one, an' I had no change.—Vell, to return to the p'int—vich was wot the old toper remarked to his wife every night—I've bin savin' up of late."

"Saving up, have you?"

"Yes, them penny banks 'as done it. W'y, it ain't a wirtue to be savin' now-a-days, or good, or that sort o' thing. What between city missionaries, an' Sunday-schools, an' penny banks, an cheap wittles, and grannies like this here old sneezer, it's hardly possible for a young feller to go wrong, even if he was to try. Yes, I've bin an' saved enough to give me a veek's 'oliday, so I'm goin' to 'ave my 'oliday in the north. My 'ealth requires it."

Saying this, young Slidder began to eat another muffin with a degree of zest that seemed to give the lie direct to his assertion, so that I could not refrain from observing that he did not seem to be particularly ill.

"Ain't I though?" he remarked, elongating his round rosy face as much as possible. "That's 'cause you judge too much by appearances. It ain't my body that's wrong—it's my spirit. That's wot's the matter with me. If you only saw the inside o' my mind you'd be astonished."

"I thoroughly believe you," said I, laughing. "And do you really advise him to go, granny?"

"Yes, my dear, I do," replied Mrs Willis, in her sweet, though feeble tones. "You've no idea how he's been slaving and working about me. I have strongly advised him to go, and, you know, good Mrs Jones will take his place. She's as kind to me as a daughter."

The mention of the word daughter set the poor creature meditating on her great loss. She sighed deeply, and turned her poor old eyes on me with a yearning, inquiring look. I was accustomed to the look by this time, and having no good news to give her, had latterly got into a way of taking no notice of it. That night, however, my heart felt so sore for her that I could not refrain from speaking.

"Ah! dear granny," said I, laying my hand gently on her wrist, "would that I had any news to give you, but I have none—at least not at present. But you must not despair. I have failed up to this time, it is true, although my inquiries have been frequent, and carefully conducted; but you know, such a search takes a long time, and—and London is a large place."

The unfinished muffin dropped from the old woman's hand, and she turned with a deep sigh to the window, where the blank prospect was a not inapt reflection of her own blank despair.

"Never more!" she said, "never more!"

"Hope thou in God, for thou shalt yet praise Him, who is the health of thy countenance, and thy God," was all that I could say in reply. Then I turned to the boy, who sat with his eyes cast down as if in deep thought, and engaged him in conversation on other subjects, by way of diverting the old woman's mind from the painful theme.

When I rose to go, Slidder said he would call Mrs Jones to mount guard, and give me a convoy home.

No sooner were we in the street than he seized my hand, and, in a voice of unusual earnestness, said—

"I've got on 'er tracks!"

"Whose tracks? What do you mean?"

"On Edie's, to be sure—Edie Willis."

Talking eagerly and fast, as we walked along, little Slidder told me how he had first been put on the scent by his old friend and fellow-waif, the Slogger. That juvenile burglar, chancing to meet with Slidder, entertained him with a relation of some of his adventures. Among others, he mentioned having, many months before, been out one afternoon with a certain Mr Brassey, rambling about the streets with an eye to any chance business that might turn up, when they observed a young and very pretty girl looking in at various shop windows. She was obviously a lady, but her dress showed that she was very poor. Her manner and colour seemed to imply that she was fresh from the country. The two thieves at once resolved to fleece her. Brassey advised the Slogger "to come the soft dodge over her," and entice her, if possible, into a neighbouring court. The Slogger, agreeing, immediately ran and placed himself on a doorstep which the girl was about to pass. Then he covered his face with his hands, and began to groan dismally, while Mr Brassey, with native politeness, retired from the scene. The girl, having an unsuspicious nature, and a tender heart, believed the tale of woe which the boy unfolded, and went with him to see "his poor mother," who had just fallen down in a fit, and was dying at that moment for want of physic and some one to attend to her. She suggested, indeed, that the Slogger should run to the nearest chemist, but the Slogger said it would be of no use, and might be too late. Would she just run round an' see her? The girl acted on the spur of the moment. In her exuberant sympathy she hurried down an alley, round a corner, under an archway, and walked straight into the lion's den!

There Mr Brassey, the lion, promptly introduced himself, and requested the loan of her purse and watch! The poor girl at once understood her position, and turned to fly, but a powerful hand on her arm prevented her. Then she tried to shriek, but a powerful hand on her mouth prevented that also. Then she fainted. Not wishing to be found in an awkward position, Mr Brassey and the Slogger searched her pockets hastily, and, finding nothing therein, retired precipitately from the scene, taking her little dog with them. As they did so the young girl recovered, sprang wildly up, and rushing back through the court and alley, dashed into the main thoroughfare. The two thieves saw her attempt to cross, saw a cab-horse knock her down, saw a crowd rush to the spot and then saw no more, owing to pressing engagements requiring their immediate presence elsewhere.

"There—that's wot the Slogger told me," said little Slidder, with flushed cheeks and excited looks, "an' I made him give me an exact description o' the gal, which was a facsimilar o' the pictur' painted o' Miss Edie Willis by her own grandmother—as like as two black cats."

"This is interesting, very interesting, my boy," said I, stopping and looking at the pavement; "but I fear that it leaves us no clew with which to prosecute the search."

"Of course it don't," rejoined Robin, with one of his knowing looks; "but do you think I'd go an aggrawate myself about the thing if I 'adn't more to say than that?"

"Well, what more have you to say?"

"Just this, that ever since my talk wi' the Slogger I've bin making wery partikler inquiries at all the chemists and hospitals round about where he said the accident happened, an' I've diskivered one hospital where I 'appens to know the porter, an' I got him to inwestigate, an' he found there was a case of a young gal run over on the wery day this happened. She got feverish, he says, an' didn't know what she was sayin' for months, an' nobody come to inquire arter her, an when she began to git well she sent to Vitechapel to inquire for 'er grandmother, but 'er grandmother was gone, nobody knowed where. Then the young gal got wuss, then she got better, and then she left, sayin' she'd go back to 'er old 'ome in York, for she was sure the old lady must have returned there. So that's the reason w'y I'm goin' to recruit my 'ealth in the north, d'ye see? But before I go wouldn't it be better that you should make some inwestigations at the hospital?"

I heartily agreed to this, and went without delay to the hospital, where, however, no new light was thrown on the subject. On the contrary, I found, what Slidder had neglected to ascertain, that the name of the girl in question was not Edie Willis, but Eva Bright, a circumstance which troubled me much, and inclined me to believe that we had got on a false scent; but when I reflected on the other circumstances of the case I still felt hopeful. The day of Edie's disappearance tallied exactly with the date of the robbing of the girl by Brassey and the Slogger. Her personal appearance, too, as described by the Slogger, corresponded exactly with the description given of her granddaughter by Mrs Willis; and, above all, the sending of a messenger from the hospital by the girl to inquire for her "grandmother, Mrs Willis," were proofs too strong to be set aside by the mystery of the name.

In these circumstances I also resolved to take a holiday, and join Robin Slidder in his trip to York.



CHAPTER TEN.

A DISAPPOINTMENT, AN ACCIDENT, AND A PERPLEXING RETURN.

But the trip to York produced no fruit! Some of the tradespeople did, indeed, remember old Mrs Willis and her granddaughter, but had neither seen nor heard of them since they left. They knew very little about them personally, and nothing whatever of their previous history, as they had stayed only a short time in the town, and had been remarkably shy and uncommunicative—the result, it was thought, of their having "come down" in life.

Much disappointed, Slidder and I returned to London.

"It is fortunate that we did not tell granny the object of our trip, so that she will be spared the disappointment that we have met with," said I, as the train neared the metropolis.

My companion made no reply; he had evidently taken the matter much to heart.

We were passing rapidly through the gradually thickening groups of streets and houses which besprinkle the circumference of the great city, and sat gazing contemplatively on back yards, chimney cans, unfinished suburban residences, pieces of waste ground, back windows, internal domestic arrangements, etcetera, as they flew past in rapid succession.

"Robin," said I, breaking silence again, and using the name which had by that time grown familiar, "have you made up your mind yet about taking service with Dr McTougall? Now that we have got Mrs Jones engaged and paid to look after granny, she will be able to get on pretty well without you, and you shall have time to run over and see her frequently."

"H'm! I don't quite see my way," returned the boy, with a solemn look. "You see, sir, if it was a page-in-buttons I was to be, to attend on my young lady the guv'ness, I might take it into consideration; but to go into buttons an' blue merely to open a door an' do the purlite to wisitors, an' mix up things with bad smells by way of a change—why, d'ee see, the prospec' ain't temptin'. Besides, I hate blue. The buttons is all well enough, but blue reminds me so of the bobbies that I don't think I could surwive it long—indeed I don't!"

"Robin," said I reproachfully, "I'm grieved at your indifference to friendship."

"'Ow so, sir?"

"Have you not mentioned merely your objections and the disadvantages, without once weighing against them the advantages?"

"Vich is—?"

"Which are," said I, "being under the same roof with me and with Punch, to say nothing of your young lady!"

"Ah, to be sure! Vell, but I did think of all that, only, don't you see, I'll come to be under the same roof with you all in course o' time w'en you've got spliced an' set up for—"

"Slidder," said I sternly, and losing patience under the boy's presumption, "you must never again dare to speak of such a thing. You know very well that it is quite out of the question, and—and—you'll get into a careless way of referring to such a possibility among servants or—"

"No; honour bright!" exclaimed Slidder, with, for the first time, a somewhat abashed look in his face; "I wouldn't for the wealth of the Injies say a word to nobody wotsomever. It's only atween ourselves that I wentur's to—"

"Well, well; enough," said I; "don't in future venture to do it even between ourselves, if you care to retain my friendship. Now. Robin," I added, as the train slowed, "of course you'll not let a hint of our reason for going north pass your lips to poor granny or any one; and give her the old message, that I'll be along to see her soon."

It was pleasant to return to such a hearty reception as I met with from the doctor's family. Although my absence had been but for a few days, the children came crowding and clinging round me, declaring that it seemed like weeks since I left them. The doctor himself was, as usual, exuberant, and his wife extremely kind. Miss Blythe, I found, had not yet returned, and was not expected for some time.

But the reception accorded me by the doctor and his family was as nothing to the wild welcome lavished upon me by Dumps. That loving creature came more nearly to the bursting-point than I had ever seen him before. His spirit was obviously much too large for his body. He was romping with the McTougall baby when I entered. The instant he heard my voice in the hall he uttered a squeal—almost a yell—of delight, and came down the two flights of stairs in a wriggling heap, his legs taking comparatively little part in the movement. His paws, when first applied to the wax-cloth of the nursery floor, slipped as if on ice, without communicating motion. On the stairs, his ears, tail, head, hair, heart, and tongue conspired to convulse him. Only when he had fairly reached me did the hind-legs do their duty, as he bounced and wriggled high into air. Powers of description are futile; vision alone is of any avail in such a case. Are dogs mortal? Is such overflowing wealth of affection extinguished at death? Pshaw! thought I, the man who thinks so shows that he is utterly void of the merest rudiments of common sense!

I did not mention the object of my visit to York to the doctor or his wife. Indeed, that natural shyness and reticence which I have found it impossible to shake off—except when writing to you, good reader—would in any case have prevented my communicating much of my private affairs to them, but particularly in a case like this, which seemed to be assuming the aspect of a wildly romantic hunt after a lost young girl, more like the plot of a sensational novel than an occurrence in every-day life.

It may be remarked here that the doctor had indeed understood from Mrs Willis that she had somehow lost a granddaughter; but being rather fussy in his desires and efforts to comfort people in distress, he had failed to rouse the sympathy which would have drawn out details from the old woman. I therefore merely gave him to understand that the business which had called me to the north of England had been unsuccessful, and then changed the subject.

Meanwhile Dumps returned to the nursery to resume the game of romps which I had interrupted.

After a general "scrimmage," in which the five chips of the elder McTougall had joined, without regard to any concerted plan, Dolly suddenly shouted "'Top!"

"What are we to stop for?" demanded Harry, whose powers of self-restraint were not strong.

"Want a 'est!" said Dolly, sitting down on a stool with a resolute plump.

"Rest quick, then, and let's go on again," said Harry, throwing himself into a small chair, while Job and Jenny sprawled on an ottoman in the window.

Seeing that her troops appeared to be exhausted, and that a period of repose had set in, the tall nurse thought this a fitting opportunity to retire for a short recreative talk with the servants in the kitchen.

"Now be good, child'n," she said, in passing out, "and don't 'urt poor little Dumps."

"Oh no," chorused the five, while, with faces of intense and real solemnity, they assured nurse that they would not hurt Dumps for the world.

"We'll be so dood!" remarked Dolly, as the door closed—and she really meant it.

"What'll we do to him now?" asked Harry, whose patience was exhausted.

"Tut off him's head," cried Dolly, clapping her fat little hands.

"No, burn him for a witch," said Jenny.

"Oh no! ve'll skeese him flat till he's bu'sted," suggested Job.

But Jenny thought that would be too cruel, and Harry said it would be too tame.

It must not be supposed that these and several other appalling tortures were meant to be really attempted. As Job afterwards said, it was only play.

"Oh! I'll tell you what we'll do," said Jack, who was considerably in advance of the others in regard to education, "we'll turn him into Joan of Arc."

"What's Joan of Arc?" asked Job.

"It isn't a what—it's a who," cried Jack, laughing.

"Is it like Noah's Ark?" inquired Dolly.

"No, no; it's a lady who lived in France, an' thought she was sent to deliver her country from—from—I don't know all what, an' put on men's clo'es an' armour, an' went out to battle, an' was burnt."

"Bu'nt!" shouted Dolly, with sparkling eyes; "oh, what fun!—We're goin' to bu'n you, Pompey." They called him by Lilly Blythe's name.

Dumps, who sat in a confused heap in a corner, panting, seemed regardless of the fate that awaited him.

"But where shall we find armour?" said Harry.

"I know," exclaimed Job, going to the fireplace, and seizing the lid of a saucepan which stood on the hearth near enough to the tall fender to be within reach, "here's somethin'."

"Capital—a breastplate! Just the thing!" cried Jack, seizing it, and whistling to Dumps.

"And here's a first-rate helmet," said Harry, producing a toy drum with the heads out.

The strong contrast between my doggie's conditions of grigginess and humiliation has already been referred to. Aware that something unusual was pending, he crawled towards Jack with every hair trailing in lowly submission. Poor Joan of Arc might have had a happier fate if she had been influenced by a similar spirit!

"Now, sir, stand up on your hind-legs."

The already well-trained and obedient creature obeyed.

"There," he said, tying the lid to his hairy bosom; "and there," he continued, thrusting the drum on his meek head, which it fitted exactly; "now, Madame Joan, come away—the fagots are ready."

With Harry's aid, and to the ineffable joy of Jenny, Job, and Dolly, the little dog was carefully bound to the leg of a small table, and bits of broken toys—of which there were heaps—were piled round it for fagots.

"Don't be c'uel," said Dolly tenderly.

"Oh no, we won't be cruel," said Jack, who was really anxious to accomplish the whole execution without giving pain to the victim. The better to arrange some of the fastenings he clambered on the table. Dolly, always anxious to observe what was being done, attempted to do the same. Jenny, trying to prevent her, pulled at her skirts, and among them they pulled the table over on themselves. It fell with a dire crash.

Of course there were cries and shouts from the children, but these were overtopped and quickly silenced by the hideous yellings of Dumps. Full many a time had the poor dog given yelp and yell in that nursery when accidentally hurt, and as often had it wagged its forgiving tail and licked the patting hands of sympathy; but now the yells were loud and continuous, the patting hands were snapped at, and Dumps refused to be comforted. His piercing cries reached my study. I sprang up-stairs and dashed into the nursery, where the eccentric five were standing in a group, with looks of self-condemning horror in their ten round eyes, and almost equally expressive round mouths.

The reason was soon discovered—poor Dumps had got a hind-leg broken!

Having ascertained the fact, alleviated the pain as well as I could, and bandaged the limb, I laid my doggie tenderly in the toy bed belonging to Jenny's largest doll, which was quickly and heartily given up for the occasion, the dispossessed doll being callously laid on a shelf in the meantime.

It was really quite interesting to observe the effect of this accident on the tender-hearted five. They wept over Dumps most genuine tears. They begged his pardon—implored his forgiveness—in the most earnest tones and touching terms. They took turn about in watching by his sick-bed. They held lint and lotion with superhuman solemnity while I dressed his wounded limb, and they fed him with the most tender solicitude. In short, they came out quite in a new and sympathetic light, and soon began to play at sick-nursing with each other. This involved a good deal of pretended sickness, and for a long time after that it was no uncommon thing for visitors to the nursery to find three of the five down with measles, whooping-cough, or fever, while the fourth acted doctor, and the fifth nurse.

The event however, gave them a lesson in gentleness to dumb animals which they never afterwards forgot, and which some of my boy readers would do well to remember. With a laudable effort to improve the occasion, Mrs McTougall carefully printed in huge letters, and elaborately illuminated the sentence, "Be kind to Doggie," and hung it up in the nursery. Thereupon cardboard, pencils, paints, and scissors were in immediate demand, and soon after there appeared on the walls in hideously bad but highly ornamental letters, the words "Be kind to Cattie." This was followed by "Be kind to Polly," which instantly suggested "Be kind to Dolly." And so, by one means or another, the lesson of kindness was driven home.

Soon after this event Dr McTougall moved into a new house in the same street; I became regularly established as his partner, and Robin Slidder entered on his duties as page in buttons. It is right to observe here that, in deference to his prejudices, the material of his garments was not blue, but dark grey.

It was distinctly arranged, however, that Robin was to go home, as he called it, to be with Mrs Willis at nights. On no other condition would he agree to enter the doctor's service; and I found, on talking over the subject with Mrs Willis herself, that she had become so fond of the boy that it would have been sheer cruelty to part them. In short, it was a case of mutual love at first sight! No two individuals seemed more unlikely to draw together than the meek, gentle old lady and the dashing, harum-scarum boy. Yet so it was.

"My dear,"—she always spoke to me now as if I had been her son—"this 'waif,' as people would call him, has clearly been sent to me as a comfort in the midst of all but overwhelming sorrow; and I believe, too, that I have been sent to draw the dear boy to Jesus. You should hear what long and pleasant talks we have about Him, and the Bible, and the 'better land' sometimes."

"Indeed! I am glad to hear you say so, granny, and also surprised, because, although I believe the boy to be well disposed, I have seldom been able to get him to open his lips to me on religious subjects."

"Ah! but he opens his dear lips to me, doctor, and reads to me many a long chapter out of the blessed Word!"

"Reads! Can he read?"

"Ay can he!—not so badly, considering that I only began to teach him two or three months ago. But he knew his letters when we began, and could spell out a few words. He's very quick, you see, and a dear boy!"

Soon afterwards we made this arrangement with Robin more convenient for all parties, by bringing Mrs Willis over to a better lodging in one of the small back streets not far from the doctor's new residence.

I now began to devote much of my time to the study of chemistry, not only because it suited Dr McTougall that I should do so, but because I had conceived a great liking for that science, and entertained some thoughts of devoting myself to it almost exclusively.

In the various experiments connected therewith I was most ably, and, I may add, delightedly, assisted by Robin Slidder. I was also greatly amused by, and induced to philosophise not a little on the peculiar cast of the boy's mind. The pleasure obviously afforded to him by the uncertainty as to results in experiments was very great. The probability of a miscarriage created in him intense interest—I will not say hope! The ignorance of what was coming kept him in a constant flutter of subdued excitement, and the astounding results (even sometimes to myself) of some of my combinations, kept him in a perpetual simmer of expectation. But after long observation, I have come to the deliberate conclusion that nothing whatever gave Robin such ineffable joy as an explosion! A crash, a burst, a general reduction of anything to instantaneous and elemental ruin, was so dear to him that I verily believe he would have taken his chance, and stood by, if I had proposed to blow the roof off Dr McTougall's mansion. Nay, I almost think that if that remarkable waif had been set on a bombshell and blown to atoms, he would have retired from this life in a state of supreme satisfaction.

While my mind was thus agreeably concentrated on the pursuit of science, it received a rude, but pleasing, yet particularly distracting shock, by the return of Lilly Blythe. The extent to which this governess was worshipped by the whole household was wonderful—almost idolatrous. Need I say that I joined in the worship, and that Dumps and Robin followed suit? I think not. And yet—there was something strange, something peculiar, something unaccountable, about Miss Blythe's manner which I could by no means understand.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

RELATES GENERALLY TO THE DOINGS AND SAYINGS OF ROBIN SLIDDER.

"My dear," said Mrs McTougall one evening to the doctor, "since that little boy Slidder came to stay with us things have become worse and worse; in fact, the house is almost unbearable."

"My dear," responded Dr McTougall, "you amaze me; surely the boy has not dared to be rude—insolent to you?"

"Oh no, it's not that; but he must really be forbidden to enter the nursery. Our darlings, you know, were dreadful enough before he came, but since then they have become absolute maniacs."

"You don't mean to say that the little rascal has been teaching them bad words or manners, I hope?" returned the doctor, with a frown.

"Dear me, no, papa; don't get angry," answered the anxious lady—"far from it. On the contrary, I really believe that our darlings have greatly improved his language and manners by their example; but Robin's exuberant spirits are far too much for them. It is like putting fire to gunpowder, and they are so fond of him. That's the difficulty. The boy does not presume, I must say that for him, and he is very respectful to nurse; but the children are constantly asking him to come and play with them, which he seems quite pleased to do, and then his mind is so eccentric, so inventive. The new games he devises are very ingenious, but so exceedingly dangerous and destructive that it is absolutely necessary to check him, and I want you to do it, dear."

"I must know something about the nature of the mischief before I can check it," said the doctor.

"Oh, it's indescribable," returned the lady; "the smell that he makes in the nursery with his chemical experiments is awful; and then poor Pompey, or Dumps, or whatever they call him—for they seem very undecided about his name—has not the life of—I was going to say—a dog with them. Only last night, when you were out, the ridiculous boy proposed the storming of an ogre's castle. Nurse was down-stairs at the time, or it could never have happened. Well, of course, Robin was the ogre, darling Dolly was a princess whom he had stolen away, Jack was a prince who was to deliver her, and the others were the prince's retainers. A castle was built in one corner of all the tables and chairs in the room piled on each other, with one particular chair so ingeniously arranged that the pulling of it out would bring the castle in ruins to the ground. The plan of attack, as far as I could make out, was that the prince should ring our dinner-bell at the castle gates and fiercely demand admittance, the demand to be followed by a burst from the trumpets, drums, and gongs of his soldiers. The ogre, seated on the castle top with the princess, after a few preliminary yells and howls, was to say, in a gruff voice, that he was too much engaged just then with his dinner—that three roast babies were being dished. When they were disposed of, the princess would be killed, and served up as a sort of light pudding, after which he would open the castle gate. A horrible smell was to be created at this point to represent the roasting of the babies. This was to be the signal for a burst of indignation from the prince and his troops, who were to make a furious assault on the door— one of our largest tea-trays—and after a little the prince was to pull away the particular chair, and rush back with his men to avoid the falling ruin, while the ogre and princess were to find shelter under the nursery table, and then, when the fall was over, they were to be found dead among the ruins. I am not sure whether the princess was to be revived, or she was to have a grand funeral, but the play never got that length. I was sitting here, listening to the various sounds overhead, wondering what they could be about, when I heard a loud ringing—that was the castle bell. It was soon followed by a burst of toy trumpets and drums. A most disgusting smell began to permeate the house at the same time, for it seems that the ogre set fire to his chemicals too soon.

"Then I heard roaring and yelling, which really alarmed me—it was so gruff. When it stopped, there was a woeful howl—that was the burst of indignation. The assault came off next, and as the shouting of the troops was mingled with the hammering of the large tea-tray, the ringing of the dinner-bell, and the beating of the gong, you may fancy what the noise was. In the midst of it there was a hideous crash, accompanied by screams of alarm that were too genuine to be mistaken. I rushed up, and found the furniture lying scattered over the room, with darling Dolly in the midst, the others standing in solemn silence around, and Robin Slidder sitting on the ground ruefully rubbing his head.

"The truth was that the particular chair had been pulled away before the proper time, and the castle had come down in ruins while the ogre and princess were still on the top of it. Fortunately Robin saved Dolly, at the expense of his own head and shoulder, by throwing his arms round her and falling undermost; but it was a narrow escape, and you really must put a stop to such reckless ongoings."

The doctor promised to do so.

"I have to send Robin a message this forenoon, and will administer a rebuke before sending him," he said; but it was plain, from the smile on the doctor's face, that the rebuke would not be severe.

"Robin," he said, with much solemnity, when the culprit stood before him, "take this bottle of medicine to Mr Williams; you know—the old place—and say I want to know how he is, and that I will call to-morrow afternoon."

"Yes, sir," said the boy, taking the bottle with an unusually subdued air.

"And Robin—stop," continued the doctor. "I am told that the children were visited by an ogre last night."

"Yes, sir," answered the boy, with an uncertain glance at his questioner's grave face.

"Well, Robin, you know where that ogre lives. Just call and tell him from me that if he or any of his relations ever come here again I'll cause them to undergo extraction of the spinal marrow, d'you understand?"

At first little Slidder felt inclined to laugh, but the doctor's face was so unusually stern that he thought better of it, and went away much impressed.

Now Robin Slidder was no loiterer on his errands, nevertheless he did not deem it a breach of fidelity to cast an occasional glance into a picture-shop window, or to pause a few seconds now and then to chaff a facetious cabby, or make a politely sarcastic remark to a bobby. His connection with what he termed "'igh life" had softened him down considerably, and given a certain degree of polish to his wit, but it had in no degree repressed his exuberant spirits.

The distance he had to go being considerable, he travelled the latter part of the way by omnibus. Chancing to be in a meditative frame of mind that day, he climbed to the roof of the 'bus, and sat down with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, and his eyes deep into futurity. Whether he saw much there I cannot tell, but after wandering for some time in that unknown region, his eyes returned to surrounding things, and, among other objects, alighted on the 'bus conductor, whose head was within a few inches of his toe. It was the head of the Slogger!

That eccentric individual, having sprung up in a few months from the condition of a big boy to that of an exceedingly young man, had obtained a situation as conductor to a 'bus. He was so busy with his fares when Robin mounted the 'bus that he failed to observe him until the moment when the latter returned from futurity. Their eyes met simultaneously, and opened to such an extent that if size had counted for numbers they might have done for four boys.

"Hallo, Buttons!" was the Slogger's exclamation.

"Hallo, Slogger!" was that of Robin.

"Well, now, this is a pleasure! who'd a thought it?" said the conductor, reaching up his hand.

"Is that for your fare or a shake, Slogger?" demanded Robin.

"A shake, of course, old feller," replied the other, as Robin grasped the proffered hand;—"but I say," he added in a lower key, "there's no Slogger now in this 'ere world; he's dead an' buried long ago. My name is Villum Bowls—no connection wotever with Slogger. Oh no! we never mention 'im;—but, I say, w'en did you go into the genteel line? eh, Slidder?"

"Robin—Robin is my name now, Villum Bowls. I've changed it since we met last, though I hain't cut old friends like you. Robin an' Slidder 'ave been united, an' a pretty pair they make, don't they?"

"Middlin'. 'Old on till I get that ancient stout party shoved in. Looks like as if he was a goin' in the opposite direction, but it don't matter so long as we can get 'im in.—Now, then, sir, mind the step. All right? I say, Slid—Robin, I mean—"

"Vell, Slog—Villum, I mean; why don't you say wot you mean, eh?"

"'Ow d'you like grey tights an' buttons?" said the Slogger, with a bland smile.

"So—so," replied Robin, with a careless air; "the grey is sober enough—quite suitable to my character—an' I confess I'm fond o' the buttons."

"There's enough of 'em to form a goodish overcoat a'most," said the Slogger with a critical grin, "but I should 'ave thought 'em not sufficiently waterproof in wet weather."

"Vell, they ain't much use for that, Slog—eh, Villum; but you should see the dazzling display they makes in sunshine. W'y, you can see me half a mile off w'en I chance to be walking in Regent Street or drivin' in the Park. But I value them chiefly because of the frequent and pleasant talks they get me with the ladies."

"You don't mean for to say, Robin, that the ladies ever holds you by the button-'oles?"

"No, I don't; but I holds them wi' the buttons. This is the way of it. W'en I chance to see a wery pretty lady—not one o' your beauties, you know; I don't care a dump for them stuck-up creatures! but one o' your sweet, amiable sort, with souls above buttons, an' faces one likes to look at and to kiss w'en you've a right to; vell, w'en I sees one o' these I brushes up again' 'er, an' 'ooks on with my buttons to some of 'er togs.

"If she takes it ill, looks cross, and 'alf inclined to use strong language, I makes a 'umble apology, an' gets undone as fast as possible, but if she larfs, and says, 'Stoopid boy; w'y don't you look before you?' or suthin o' that sort, I just 'ooks on another tag to another button w'en we're a fumblin' at the first one, and so goes on till we get to be quite sociable over it—I might almost say confidential. Once or twice I've been the victim of misjudgment, and got a heavy slap on the face from angelic hands that ought to 'ave known better, but on the 'ole I'm willin' to take my chance."

"Not a bad notion," remarked the Slogger; "especially for a pretty little chap like you, Robin."

"Right you are," replied the other, "but you needn't try on the dodge yourself, for it would never pay with a big ugly grampus like you, Villum."

Having thus run into a pleasant little chat, the two waifs proceeded to compare notes, in the course of which comparison the Slogger gave an outline of his recent history. He had been engaged in several successful burglaries, but had been caught in the act of pocket-picking, for which offence he had spent some weeks in prison. While there a visitor had spoken to him very earnestly, and advised him to try an honest life, as being, to say the least of it, easier work than thieving. He had made the attempt. Through the influence of the same prison-visitor he had obtained a situation, from which he had been advanced to the responsible position which he then held.

"And, d'you know, Robin," said the Slogger, "I find that honesty pays pretty well, and I means to stick to it."

"An' I suppose," said Robin, "if it didn't pay pretty well you'd cut it?"

"Of course I would," returned the Slogger, with a look of surprise; "wot's the use o' stickin' to a thing that don't pay?"

"Vell, if them's your principles you ain't got much to 'old on by, my tulip," said Robin.

"An' wot principles may you 'old on by, my turnip?" asked the Slogger.

"It would puzzle me, rather, to tell that," returned Robin, "'specially talkin' down to the level of my own toes on the top of a 'bus; but I'll tell you what, Villum, if you'll come to Number 6 Grovelly Street, Shadwell Square, just back of Hoboy Crescent, w'ere my master lives, on Sunday next at seven in the evenin', you'll hear an' see somethin' as'll open your eyes."

"Ah! a meetin'-'ouse'?" said the Slogger, with a slight smile of contempt.

"Music-'alls and publics is meetin'-'ouses, ain't they?"

"Ah, but they ain't prayer-meetin' 'ouses," rejoined the Slogger.

"Not so sure o' that Villum. There's a deal o' prayer in such places sometimes, an' it's well for the wisitors that their prayers ain't always answered. But our meetin'-'ouse is for more than prayer—a deal more; and there's my young missus—a real angel—comes in, and 'olds forth there every Sunday evening to young fellers like you an' me. You just come an' judge for yourself."

"No thankee," returned the Slogger.

As he spoke a lady with a lap-dog made powerful demonstrations with her umbrella. The 'bus stopped, and the conductor attended to his duties, while Robin, who really felt a strong desire to bring his old comrade under an influence which he knew was working a wonderful change in himself, sat meditating sadly on the obstinacy of human nature.

"I say, Robin," said the Slogger, on resuming his perch, "d'you know I've found traces o' that young gal as you took such a interest in, as runned away from the old 'ooman, an' was robbed by Brassey an' me?"

"You don't mean that!" exclaimed Robin eagerly.

"Yes I do. She's in London, I believe, but I can't exactly say where. I heard of her through Sal—you know Sal, who 'angs out at the vest end o' Potter's Lane. I expect to see Sal in 'alf an hour, so if you're comin' back this way, I'll be at the Black Bull by two o'clock, and tell you all I can pump out of 'er."

"I'll be there sharp," said Robin promptly; "an now pull up, for I must take to my legs here."

"But I say, Robin, if we do find that gal, you won't split on me, eh? You won't tell 'er who I am or where I is? You won't wictimise your old friend?"

"D'you take me for a informer?" demanded Robin, with an offended look.

"Hall right," cried the Slogger, giving the signal to drive on.

Robin sped quickly away, executed his mission, and returned to the Black Bull in a state of considerable excitement and strong hope.

Slidder was doomed to disappointment. He reached the Black Bull at two o'clock precisely.

"Vell, my fair one," he said, addressing a waiting-maid who met him in the passage, "it's good for sore eyes to see the likes o' you in cloudy weather. D'you 'appen to know a young man of the name of Sl—I mean Villum Bowls?"

"Yes I do, Mr Imp'rence," answered the girl.

"You couldn't introdooce me to him, could you, Miss Sunshine?"

"No, I couldn't, because he isn't here, and won't likely be back for two hours."

This reply took all the humour out of Robin's tone and manner. He resolved, however, to wait for half an hour, and went out to saunter in front of the hotel.

Half an hour passed, then another, then another, and the boy was fain to leave the spot in despair.

Poor Slidder's temperament was sanguine. Slight encouragement raised his hopes very high. Failure depressed him proportionally and woefully low, but, to do him justice, he never sorrowed long. In the present instance, he left the Black Bull grinding his teeth. Then he took to clanking his heels as he walked along in a way that drew forth the comments of several street-boys, to whom, in a spirit of liberality, he returned considerably more than he received. Then he began to mutter between his teeth his private opinion as to faithless persons in general, and faithless Villum, alias the Slogger, in particular, whose character he painted to himself in extremely sombre colours. After that, a heavy thunder-shower having fallen and drenched him, he walked recklessly and violently through every puddle in his path. This seemed to relieve his spirit, for when he reached Hoboy Crescent he had recovered much of his wonted equanimity.

The Slogger was not however, so faithless as his old friend imagined. He had been at the Black Bull before two o'clock, but had been sent off by his employer with a note to a house at a considerable distance in such urgent haste that he had not time even to think of leaving a message for his friend.

In these circumstances, he resolved to clear his character by paying a visit on the following Sunday to Number 6 Grovelly Street, Shadwell Square.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

BEGINS WITH LOVE, HOPE, AND JOY, AND ENDS PECULIARLY.

It may not perhaps surprise the reader to learn that after Lilly Blythe's return to town, I did not prosecute my studies with as much enthusiasm as before. In fact I divided my attentions pretty equally between Lilly and chemistry.

Now, I am not prone to become sentimentally talkative about my own affairs, but as courtship, and love, and that sort of thing are undoubted and important elements in the chemistry of human affairs, and as they influenced me and those around me to some extent, I cannot avoid making reference to them, but I promise the reader to do so only as far as appears necessary for the elucidation of my story.

First, then, although I knew that my prospects of success as a partner of Dr McTougall were most encouraging, I felt that it would be foolish to think of marriage until my position was well established and my income adequate. I therefore strove with all my might to check the flow of my thoughts towards Miss Blythe. As well might I have striven to restrain the flow of Niagara. True love cannot be stemmed! In my case, however, the proverb was utterly falsified, for my true love did "run smooth." More than that, it ran fast—very fast indeed, so much so that I was carried, as it were, on the summit of a rushing flood-tide into the placid harbour of Engagement. The anchorage in that harbour is with many people uncertain. With Lilly and me it was not so. The ground-tackle was good; it had caught hold of a rock and held on.

It happened thus. After many weeks of struggling on my part to keep out of Miss Blythe's way, and to prevent the state of my feelings from being observed by her—struggles which I afterwards found to my confusion had been quite obvious to her—I found myself standing alone, one Sunday afternoon, in the doctor's drawing-room, meditating on the joys of childhood, as exemplified by thunderous blows on the floor above and piercing shouts of laughter. The children had been to church and were working off the steam accumulated there. Suddenly there was a dead silence, which I knew to be the result of a meal. The meal was, I may add, the union of a late dinner with an early tea. It was characteristic of Sundays in the McTougall nursery.

The thought of this union turned my mind into another channel. Just then Miss Blythe entered. She looked so radiant that I forgot myself, forgot my former struggles, my good resolutions—everything except herself—and proposed on the spot!

I was rejected—of course! More than that, I was stunned! Hope had told me many flattering tales. Indeed, I had felt so sure, from many little symptoms, that Lilly had a strong regard for me—to say the least—that I was overwhelmed, not only by my rejection, but by the thought of my foolish self-assurance.

"I don't wonder that you look upon me as a presumptuous, vain, contemptible fellow," said I, in the bitterness of my soul.

"But I do not regard you in that light," said Lilly, with a faint smile, and then, hesitatingly, she looked down at the carpet.

"In what light do you regard me, Miss Blythe?" said I, recovering a little hope, and speaking vehemently.

"Really, Dr Mellon, you take me by surprise; your manner—so abrupt— so—"

"Oh! never mind manner, dear Miss Blythe," said I, seizing her hand, and forcibly detaining it. "You are the soul of truth; tell me, is there any hope for me?—can you care for me?"

"Dr Mellon," she said, drawing her hand firmly away, "I cannot, should not reply. You do not know all the—the circumstances of my life—my poverty, my solitary condition in the world—my—my—"

"Miss Blythe," I exclaimed, in desperation, "if you were as poor as a— a—church rat, as solitary as—as—Adam before the advent of Eve, I would count it my chief joy, and—"

"Hallo! Mellon, hi! I say! where are you?" shouted the voice of the doctor at that moment from below stairs. "Here's Dumps been in the laboratory, and capsized some of the chemicals!"

"Coming, sir!" I shouted; then tenderly, though hurriedly, to Miss Blythe, "You will let me resume this subject at—"

"Hallo! look sharp!" from below.

"Yes, yes, I'll be down directly!—Dear Miss Blythe, if you only knew—"

"Why, the dog's burning all over—help me!" roared the doctor.

Miss Blythe blushed and laughed. How could she help it? I hastily kissed her hand, and fled from the room.

That was the whole affair. There was not enough, strictly speaking, to form a ground of hope; but somehow I knew that it was all right. In the laboratory I found Dumps smoking, and the doctor pouring water from the tap on his dishevelled body. He was not hurt, and little damage was done; but as I sat in my room talking to him that evening, I could not help reproaching him with having been the means of breaking off one of the most important interviews of my life.

"However, Dumps," I continued, "your good services far outweigh your wicked deeds, and whatever you may do in the future, I will never forget that you were the means of introducing me to that angel, Lilly Blythe."

The angel in question went that Sunday evening at seven o'clock, as was her wont, to a Bible class which she had started for the instruction of some of the poor neglected boys and lads who idled about in the dreary back streets of our aristocratic neighbourhood. The boys had become so fond of her that they were eager to attend, and usually assembled round the door of the class-room before the hour.

My protege, Robin Slidder, was of course one of her warmest adherents. He was standing that night apart from the other boys, contemplating the proceedings of two combative sparrows which quarrelled over a crumb of bread on the pavement, and had just come to the conclusion that men and sparrows had some qualities in common, when he was attracted by a low whistle, and, looking up, beheld the Slogger peeping round a neighbouring corner.

"Hallo! Slog—Villum I mean; how are you? Come along. Vell, I am glad to see you, for, d'you know, arter you failed me that day at the Black Bull, I have bin givin' you a pretty bad character, an' callin' you no end o' bad names."

"Is that what your 'angel' teaches you, Robin?"

"Vell, not exactly, but you'll hear wot she teaches for yourself to-night, I 'ope. Come, I'm right glad to see you, Villum. What was it that prevented you that day, eh?"

When the Slogger had explained and cleared his character, Robin asked him eagerly if he had ascertained anything further about the girl whom he and Brassey had robbed.

"Of course I have," said the Slogger, "and it's a curious suckumstance that 'er place of abode—so Sally says—is in the Vest End, not wery far from here. She gave me the street and the name, but wasn't quite sure of the number."

"Vell, come along, let's hear all about it," said Robin impatiently.

"Wy, wot's all your 'urry?" returned the Slogger slowly; "I ain't goin' away till I've heerd wot your angel's got to say, you know. Besides, I must go arter your meeting's over an watch the 'ouse till I see the gal an' make sure that it's her, for Sally may have bin mistook, you know."

"You don't know her name, do you?" asked Robin; "it wasn't Edie Willis, now, was it?"

"'Ow should I know 'er name?" answered the Slogger. "D'you think I stopped to inquire w'en I 'elped to relieve 'er of 'er propity?"

"Ah, I suppose not. Vell, I suppose you've no objection to my goin' to watch along wi' you."

"None wotsomever; on'y remember, if it do turn out to be 'er, you won't betray me. Honour bright! She may be revengeful, you know, an' might 'ave me took up if she got 'old of me."

Robin Slidder faithfully and earnestly pledged himself. While he was speaking there was a general movement among the lads and boys towards the class-room, for Miss Blythe was seen coming towards them. The two friends moved with the rest. Just as he was about to enter the door, Robin missed his companion, and, looking back, saw him bending down, and holding his sides as if in pain.

"Wot's wrong now?" he inquired, returning to him.

"Oh! I'm took so bad," said the Slogger, looking very red, and rubbing himself; "a old complaint as I thought I was cured of. Oh, dear! you'll 'ave to excuge me, Robin. I'll go an' take a turn, an' come in if I gits better. If not, I'll meet you round the corner arter it's over."

So saying, the Slogger, turning round, walked quickly away, and his little friend entered the class-room in a state of mind pendulating between disgust and despair, for he had no expectation of seeing the slippery Slogger again that night.

When the meeting was over, Miss Blythe returned home. I saw her enter the library. No one else was there, I knew. The gas had not yet been lighted, and only a faint flicker from the fire illumined the room. Unable to bear the state of uncertainty under which my mind still laboured, I resolved to make assurance doubly sure, or quit the house— and England—for ever!

I spare the reader the details. Suffice it to say that after much entreaty, I got her to admit that she loved me, but she refused to accept me until she had told me her whole history.

"Then I'm sure of you now," said I, in triumph; "for, be your history what it may, I'll never give you up, dearest Lilly—"

"Don't call me Lilly," she said in a low, quiet tone; "it is only a pet name which the little ones here gave me on my first coming to them. Call me Edith."

"I will," said I, with enthusiasm, "a far more beautiful name. I'll—"

"Hallo! hi! Mellon, are you there?"

For the second time that day Dr McTougall interrupted me, but I was proof against annoyance now.

"Yes, I am here," I shouted, running downstairs. "Surely Dumps is not burning himself again—eh?"

"Oh no," returned my friend, with a laugh—"only a telegram. However, it's important enough to require prompt attention. The Gordons in Bingley Manor—you know them—telegraph me to run down immediately; old lady ill. Now, it unfortunately happens that I have an engagement this evening which positively cannot be put off, so I must send you. Besides, I know well enough what it is. They're easily alarmed, and I'm convinced it is just the old story. However, the summons must be obeyed. You will go for me. The train starts in half an hour. You will have plenty of time to catch it, if you make haste. You'll have to stay all night. No return train till to-morrow, being an out-of-the-way place. There, off with you. Put the telegram in your pocket for the address."

So saying, the doctor put on his hat and left the house.

Summoning Robin Slidder, I bade him pack a few things into my travelling-bag while I wrote a note. When he had finished he told me of his interview with the Slogger. I was greatly interested, and asked if he had gone to see his friend after the meeting.

"No, sir, I didn't. I meant to, but Miss Blythe wanted me to walk 'ome with 'er, it was so dark, an' w'en I went back he had gone."

"Pity, Robin—a great pity," said I, hastily strapping up my bag, "but no doubt he'll come here again to see you.—Now, don't forget to take over that parcel of tea and sugar, etcetera, to Mrs Willis. Go as soon as you can." Saying this, I left the house.

The new residence of the old woman being now so near to Hoboy Crescent the parcel was soon delivered, and Robin officiated at the opening of it, also at the preparing and consuming of some of its contents. Of course he chatted vigorously, as was his wont, but was particularly careful to make not the most distant allusion to the Slogger or his reports, being anxious not to arouse her hopes until he should have some evidence that they were on a true scent. Indeed, he was so fearful of letting slip some word or remark on the subject and thereby awakening suspicion and giving needless pain, that he abstained from all reference to the meeting of that evening, and launched out instead into wonderful and puzzling theological speculations, of which he was very fond.