Along Great Russell Street he made his way, gazing at the grim mass of the great museum, and wondering if it were another hospital or a prison. There were pigeons and policemen inside the formidable railings. The former attracted; but the latter repelled. So he turned his back on the mighty store-house of antiquities, caring and knowing nothing about the forty-three miles of the bookshelves, and all the cheerless wonders of its different sections. Onward he hopped, across Tottenham Court Road into Oxford Street. The district pleased him. Presently the waving of big boughs attracted notice, and exploration led him into Grosvenor Square. Further investigation resulted in the discovery of Berkeley Square, and finally, very weary and hungry, he sat down to rest on the doorstep of Sir John Westwood’s house in Hill Street. From that day forth the boy became and remained Billy of Mayfair; destined to play his little part in national events. CHAPTER XV THE SHRINE OF LUXURY AND PRIDE Thus the wind of the world, which bloweth whither it listeth--or whither the Great Spirit that rules the world directs--had wafted Billy, a fortuitous atom of humanity, into touch with Aldwyth Westwood and Father Francis of St Stephen’s. Billy, however, fought shy of Father Francis, who had speedily run across him. The boy was not very keen on the clergy; being rather disposed to class them with the police--and that, indeed, in a moral sense is what they are, or ought to be. But with Aldwyth, who discovered him one early morning on the doorstep, he speedily developed friendly relations. He soon learnt to look up to her with reverently admiring eyes, as a beautiful being belonging to another sphere; one who smiled with an enchanting smile, and bestowed sixpences as other people bestowed halfpence.