"And how come you to be making love to that there pillar, instead of enjoying yourself in a nice warm cell? I suppose you didn't give the policeman one in the nose and knock him down?" "We met some people in the street, and they made him let me go." "Did they though? that was kind of them! When policemen was making free with me I wish I was always meeting people in the streets who would make them interfering bobbies let me go. And now, who are you when you're at home? We're having quite a nice little conversation, ain't we, you and I? Glad I met you, quite a treat!" He raised his hat to express his sense of the satisfaction which he felt. "You don't look as though you were raised in these 'ere parts." Bertie hung his head; he was ashamed: ashamed of many things, but most of all just then of the company he was in. And yet, if he turned this thief adrift, where else should he find a friend? And he was so tired, so hungry, so conscious of his own helplessness. "You very nearly got me locked up this morning," was his answer. "Well, my noble marquis, wasn't it better for you to be locked up than me? It'll have to come, you know--if not to-morrow the day after." To Bertie this view of the matter had not occurred before. It had not entered into his calculations that a journey to the Land of Golden Dreams would necessitate the process of locking-up. "Are you on the cross, or only mouching around?" This inquiry was Greek to Bertie, and his questioner perceived that he failed to understand. "You're a fly bloke, that you are! What's your little game? You haven't got a fortune in your pocket, or a marquis for a pa? What do you do to live? I suppose you ain't reckoning to die just yet awhile." "I wish I could do something, but I can't." "Oh, you wish you could do something, do you, but unfortunately you can't! Well, you are a trial for the nerves! Have you got any money?" Bertie hung his head still lower. To be despised by a thief! Was this the result of all his dreams? "No!" "Got any friends?" "I've run away from them." And here the boy broke down. Turning, and leaning against a pillar, he burst into a passion of tears. The other eyed him for a few moments, whistling beneath his breath. "That's the time of day, is it? I thought you were something of that kind from the first, I did. What did you run away for?" Bertie could not have told him to save his life. To have told this thief that he had started on a journey to the Land of Golden Dreams; that he had resolved to emulate the doings of his heroes, Dick Turpin, Crusoe, Jack the Giant-Killer, and Robin Hood! Oh, ye gods! and now to be crying against a post! "Father living?" No answer. "Mother?" No answer. How well he knew that he loved his parents now! The mere mention of the word "mother" made him hysterical with woe. To have come within reach of his mother's loving arms, to have been folded to her breast! If he could only come within reach of her again!