Charles Lamb was ever Samuel's greatest solace. They met their little world together, fighting, dreaming, hoping, and depending upon each other for company at all times. Both were gayly disposed and many were the daring pranks they played on their mates and upon each other. The leave-days were almost the hardest of the week for Samuel, as Charles usually went home, and he was left to walk the streets alone from morning till night. Sometimes he, too, paid a visit to the Lambs, but finding that they were very poor and very busy people, he feared that his presence might seem an intrusion, so he usually stayed away. One winter's day Samuel was walking slowly round Newgate market. He had no interest in Newgate market, but he must walk somewhere, and this was as good a place as any. A cold rain beat pitilessly upon his uncovered head, and from time to time he drew his blue coat more closely about him. Everyone but himself seemed in a hurry to get to places of shelter, and occasionally persons would pause to stare curiously at the lad who stood motionless in the downpour, gazing listlessly into shop windows. Whenever he found a deserted stair or vestibule, he stole in and read until he was curtly despatched by owner or policeman. Round and round the square he trod, jaded, famished, waiting for the hours to drag themselves by. Suddenly revolting at the sights and sounds of the market, Samuel hurried into a by-street, turning to the right here, to the left there, bent only upon leaving the deadly familiar spot behind. On he went, shivering and footsore. On he went, purposeless and oppressed. He was usually able to gather odd bits of pleasure and information from these weekly excursions, but to-day the city seemed like a dull and winding lane, where one had no choice but to walk and walk until nightfall brought the end. Even cathedrals, bird-stores, and persons attired in black, which ordinarily proved highly diverting, failed to arrest his attention, and he tramped the flooded pavements hour after hour and mile upon mile. Finally he halted before a toy-shop whose windows looked into a narrow court, and was glancing over the display of balls, dolls, and fishing-rods, when a delicious odor of cooked food greeted him from behind. Samuel faced about so sharply that he almost sent a baker's boy sprawling, who chanced to be turning into the court with a huge basket on his shoulder. "Look out! Look out! Would you try to upset a hard-workin' cove?" bawled the white-capped 'prentice; but Samuel allowed him to pass unanswered, for with the whiff of meaty fragrance his stomach gave a furious lurch, and his head seemed about to swim off his shoulders. He swayed unsteadily, caught blindly at the window ledge, and leaned his forehead against the dripping stone as he struggled to regain his self-command. "Blue Coat!" The name was shouted into his ear, and Samuel was dizzily conscious of being collared from behind, while a strong arm pulled him smartly erect.