"Give these youngsters some of that pudding!" he said to the man behind the counter: a fat, flaccid man with a wet, steamy brow which he periodically wiped with a grimy towel. "'Ere!" said the man, cutting off large pieces of the pudding and passing it across the counter to the boys who took it, without speaking, and began to gnaw at it immediately. "Wod you say for it, eih?" the man demanded. They mumbled unintelligibly, their mouths choked with the food. "Pore little kids, they don't know no better! Nah, then, 'op it, you two! That'll be fourpence, sir!" Henry paid for the pudding and left the malodorous shop. The children were standing in the shadow outside, one of them eating wolfishly, while the other held the pudding in front of him, gaping at it.... "Don't you like it?" Henry said, bending down to him. "'E can't eat it, guv'nor!" the other boy said. "Can't eat it?" "No, guv'nor, 'e can't. I'll 'ave to eat it for 'im...." "But why can't you eat?" Henry asked, turning to the boy who still gaped helplessly at the pudding. The child did not answer. He stared at the pudding, and then he stared at Henry, and as he did so, the pudding fell from his hands, and he became sick.... "'Ere, wod you chuckin' it awy for?" the other boy said, dropping quickly to the ground and picking up the pudding. "He's ill," Henry said helplessly. "'E's always ill," the boy answered, stuffing pieces of the recovered pudding into his mouth. A policeman was standing at the corner, and Henry went to him and told him of the child's plight. "Sick is 'e?" the constable exclaimed. "Yes," Henry answered. "He looked hungry, poor little chap, and so I bought him some of the pudding they sell in that shop!" The policeman looked at him for a few moments. "Well, of course, you meant it kindly, sir!" he said, "but if I was you I wouldn't do that again. If you'll excuse me sayin' it, sir, it was a damn silly thing to do!" "Why?" "Why! 'Alf the kids about 'ere is too 'ungry to eat. That kid ought to be in the 'ospital by rights. Don't never give 'em no puddin' or stuff like that, sir. Their stomachs can't stand it. Nah, then," he said to the sick child, "you 'op 'ome, young 'un. You didn't ought to be 'angin' about 'ere, you know, upsettin' the traffic an' mykin' a mess on the pyvement. Gow on! Git aht of it!" The boys ran off, leaving Henry staring blankly after them. "'E'll be all right, sir!" said the policeman. "It's no good tryin' to do nothink for 'em. They're down, guv'nor, an' that's all about it. I seen a lot of yooman nature down about 'ere, an' you can tyke it from me, them kids is down an' they'll stay down, an' that's all you can say about it. Good-night, sir!" "Good-night!" said Henry. He moved away, feeling sick and miserable and angry. "It's beastly," he said to himself. "That's what it is. Beastly!" 6