Diamond could run faster than she, and he had no broom. In a few moments he had caught her by the frock, but it tore in his hand, and away went the little girl. So he had to run again, and this time he ran so fast that he got before her, and turning round caught her in his arms, when down they went both together, which made the little girl laugh in the midst of her crying. “Where are you going?” asked Diamond, rubbing the elbow that had stuck farthest out. The arm it belonged to was twined round a lamp-post as he stood between the little girl and the wind. “Home,” she said, gasping for breath. “Then I will go with you,” said Diamond. And then they were silent for a while, for the wind blew worse than ever, and they had both to hold on to the lamp-post. “Where is your crossing?” asked the girl at length. “I don't sweep,” answered Diamond. “What do you do, then?” asked she. “You ain't big enough for most things.” “I don't know what I do do,” answered he, feeling rather ashamed. “Nothing, I suppose. My father's Mr. Coleman's coachman.” “Have you a father?” she said, staring at him as if a boy with a father was a natural curiosity. “Yes. Haven't you?” returned Diamond. “No; nor mother neither. Old Sal's all I've got.” And she began to cry again. “I wouldn't go to her if she wasn't good to me,” said Diamond. “But you must go somewheres.” “Move on,” said the voice of a policeman behind them. “I told you so,” said the girl. “You must go somewheres. They're always at it.” “But old Sal doesn't beat you, does she?” “I wish she would.” “What do you mean?” asked Diamond, quite bewildered. “She would if she was my mother. But she wouldn't lie abed a-cuddlin' of her ugly old bones, and laugh to hear me crying at the door.” “You don't mean she won't let you in to-night?” “It'll be a good chance if she does.” “Why are you out so late, then?” asked Diamond. “My crossing's a long way off at the West End, and I had been indulgin' in door-steps and mewses.” “We'd better have a try anyhow,” said Diamond. “Come along.” As he spoke Diamond thought he caught a glimpse of North Wind turning a corner in front of them; and when they turned the corner too, they found it quiet there, but he saw nothing of the lady. “Now you lead me,” he said, taking her hand, “and I'll take care of you.” The girl withdrew her hand, but only to dry her eyes with her frock, for the other had enough to do with her broom. She put it in his again, and led him, turning after turning, until they stopped at a cellar-door in a very dirty lane. There she knocked. “I shouldn't like to live here,” said Diamond. “Oh, yes, you would, if you had nowhere else to go to,” answered the girl. “I only wish we may get in.” “I don't want to go in,” said Diamond. “Where do you mean to go, then?” “Home to my home.” “Where's that?” “I don't exactly know.” “Then you're worse off than I am.” “Oh no, for North Wind--” began Diamond, and stopped, he hardly knew why.