The man stared. All he saw, however, was a dirty little pair of children, who plainly had no right to be on his platform. The baby beauty of dark-eyed Fred, the sweet confiding smile of poor pale Frank had no effect whatever on him. "Liverpool! Is the boy an idiot? Get out of this at once, or I'll take a stick to you." As he spoke, a whistle sounded, and, behold! The train was moving on. Frank felt as if his last friend was deserting him. A moment more, and he was driven off the platform, Fred clinging to him in great terror, and the station-master rattling a thick stick against the iron railings that separated the railway from the road. "Oh, Fwank, what shall we do now?" "Don't cry, Fred. I'll take care of you, and God loves us just the same as if we were at home with muddie. But I wish I had not left my bag in the van." A little way from the station they came to a shop, where they bought some bread; a drinking-fountain in the street gave them a drink of water. They consulted each other on the propriety of washing, but Frank thought that people might object. Then a woman came along the pathway, and Frank ventured to address her— "Please, ma'am, isn't this Liverpool?" "Liverpool! Did you ever hear the like? Why, child, Liverpool's a long way off. I never saw it in my life. Why do you ask?" "Because we are going there, ma'am." "What! You two babies? Who are you going with?" "No one, ma'am. We must walk." "Nonsense, child—walk indeed!" "Oh, we can walk very well," Frank said, adding with a sigh, "We're beggars, you know." The woman was kind-hearted, but stupid, and, moreover, in a hurry. She looked round for a policeman, intending to call his attention to the children; but there was no policeman to be seen, so she compromised the matter with her conscience by saying— "I don't know any way of getting to Liverpool except by train, and that costs a lot of money. Go home now, like good children. Here's a penny for you, and I'm in a great hurry." "Thank you, ma'am," Frank said gratefully. And then, as she sped away, he turned to Fred, saying, "By train—that's what she said. Then, Fred, as long as we keep near the train we're on the right road to Liverpool." Fred, refreshed by sound sleep and a big hunch of bread, set forth gaily, skipping along beside the weary, gentle-looking elder brother, for whom, alas! Sleep had brought little refreshment, and who had stinted his breakfast that he might have bread in his pocket for Fred. Thus they left the town, the name of which they never knew, but I think it must have been Cirencester. [Illustration] CHAPTER VIII. THE BABES IN THE WOOD. EVERY ONE knows the lines in "The Babes in the Wood"— "These pretty Babes, hand-in-hand, Went wandering up and down;" * * * * * "And when they saw the darksome night, They sat them down and cried."