"Very good," it said. "Come along; but it will be of no use. He is the most unremorseful, hard-hearted, foul-mouthed fellow I have in charge; and thinks about nothing but beer and pipes, which are not allowed here, of course." So they walked along over the leads, and very sooty they were, and Tom thought the chimneys must want sweeping very much. But he was surprised to see that the soot did not stick to his feet, or dirty them in the least. Neither did the live coals, which were lying about in plenty, burn him; for he was a water baby. And at last they came to chimney No. 345. Out of the top of it, his head and shoulders just showing, stuck poor Mr. Grimes, so sooty, and bleared, and ugly, that Tom could hardly bear to look at him. And in his mouth was a pipe; but it was not alight, though he was pulling at it with all his might. "Attention, Mr. Grimes," said the truncheon; "here is a gentleman come to see you." But Mr. Grimes only said bad words, and kept grumbling, "My pipe won't draw. My pipe won't draw." "Keep a civil tongue, and attend!" said the truncheon; and popped up just like Punch, hitting Grimes such a crack over the head with itself, that his brains rattled inside like a dried walnut in its shell. He tried to get his hands out, and rub the place; but he could not, for they were stuck fast in the chimney. Now he was forced to attend. "Hey!" he said, "why, it's Tom! I suppose you have come here to laugh at me, you spiteful little atomy?" Tom assured him he had not, but only wanted to help him. "I don't want anything except beer, and that I can't get; and a light to this bothering pipe, and that I can't get either." "I'll get you one," said Tom; and he took up a live coal (there were plenty lying about) and put it to Grimes' pipe; but it went out instantly. "It's no use," said the truncheon, leaning itself up against the chimney and looking on. "I tell you, it is no use. His heart is so cold that it freezes everything that comes near him, You will see that presently, plain enough." "Oh, of course, it's my fault. Everything's always my fault," said Grimes. "Now don't go to hit me again" (for the truncheon started upright, and looked very wicked); "you know, if my arms were only free, you daren't hit me then." The truncheon leant back against the chimney, and took no notice of the personal insult, like a well-trained policeman as it was, though it was ready enough to avenge any transgression against morality or order. "But can't I help you in any other way? Can't I help you to get out of this chimney?" said Tom. "No," interposed the truncheon; "he has come to the place where everybody must help himself; and he will find it out, I hope, before he has done with me."