It seemed to be a stereotyped form of speech. She got up, with the baby and her basket, and walked away, the baby crying as she went. The policeman remained behind, flashing his bull's-eye. "Now then, this won't do, you know; wake up, you two." He took the ragged sleeper by the shoulder, and shook him; he seemed to wake in a kind of stupor, and staggered off without a word. The policeman turned to Bertie. "Now then!" The lad woke with a start; he thought some one was playing tricks with him. "What do you want?" "I want you to clear out of this, that's what I want." Opening his eyes Bertie was for a moment dazzled by the glaring light; then he saw at the back the policeman's form, looming grim and awful. Possessed by a sudden fear, he sprang to his feet, and ran as for his life. "Now I wonder what you've been up to?" murmured the policeman. "I don't remember seeing your face before; I should say you was a new hand, you was." Bertie ran, without knowing where he was running to; across the road, under a rail. He found himself upon the grass. It was quite dark, mysterious, strange. He could hardly be followed there, so he thought at least, and strolled more slowly on. But he was very tired still, and, yielding to his weariness, when he had gone a little farther, he sat down upon the grass to rest. And this was the Land of Golden Dreams! this was his entrance into the promised land! A gentle breeze murmured through the night; there was a sound as of rippling grass and of rustling leaves; he could see no stars; a heavy dew was falling; the grass was damp; it was chilly; the breeze blew cold; he shivered with hunger and with cold. His head was nodding on his breast; almost unconsciously he lay full length upon the sodden grass, and again fell fast asleep. But this time it was not a dreamless slumber; it was a continued nightmare. He was oppressed with horrid visions, with continuous strugglings against hideous forms of terror. Unrefreshed he woke. It was broad day; but there had come a sudden change of weather, the skies were overcast and dull. His limbs were aching; he was stiff, and wet, and cold; he was soaked to the skin; his clothes stuck to his body. Shivering, he struggled to his feet, rising with pain. The place was deserted. Three was a solitary horseman in the distance; the horseman and the lad were the only living things in sight. It began to drizzle; the wind had risen; it whistled in the air. The fine weather had departed as though never to return. Bertie's teeth were chattering; he felt dull and stupid, ignorant of what he ought to do. He began walking through the rain across the grass. How cold he was, and oh! how hungry. He must have something to eat, and something warm to drink. He thought of his money; he felt for his fourpence; it was gone!