"All right, master. I say, don't you twig how the fog has got on my chest?" "Well, you _are_ hoarse-ish." "Spilt my woice yesterday, and made it wus by tryin' it on in Union Street to-day. Gave it up, and bought a haporth of lucifers, and got the boxes in my pocket now. Hard lines to-night, mate." Familiarity breeds contempt and engenders rebuke--the loquacity of the child offended the official, who drew her from the doorway with a jerk, totally unexpected upon her side, and placed her in the roadway. "Now be off from here--I've had enough of _you_." "Werry well--why didn't you say so afore?" And, without waiting for a reply to her query, the child went down Great Suffolk Street towards the Borough, sullenly and slowly. The policeman watched her vanish in the fog, and resumed his way; he had done his duty to society, and "moved on" one who had insulted it by her helplessness and squalor; there was a woman shrieking denunciations on the pot-man of the public house at the corner--a man who had turned her unceremoniously into the street--let him proceed to business in a new direction. Twenty steps on his way, and the ill-clad, sharp-visaged girl, stealing back in the fog to the welcome doorway whence he had abruptly expelled her. "He's not everybody," she ejaculated, screwing herself comfortably into her old quarters, "though he thinks he is. I wonder what they're up to now? Don't I wish it was my buff-day, and somebody had somethink to give me, that's all. Don't I--oh! gemini." "Hillo!--I beg pardon--I didn't know anyone was hiding here--have I hurt you?" inquired a youth, who, running down Great Suffolk Street at a smart pace, had turned into this doorway, and nearly jammed its occupant to death with the sudden concussion. "You've done for my lights, young un," was the grave assertion. "Your--your what?" "My congreve lights--there's a kiver gone--I heered it scrunch. S'pose you'll pay like a--like a man?" "I--I'm very sorry, but really I'm rather scarce of pocket-money just now--in fact, I've spent it all," stammered the lad. "You see, it was your fault, hiding here, and playing about here at this time of night, and I was in a hurry, being late." "There isn't anyone inside who'd stand a ha-penny, is there?" whined the girl; "I'm the gal that's allus about here, you know--I've had nuffin' to eat to-day, and ain't no money for a night's lodging. I'm hard up--wery hard up, upon my soul. I don't remember being so druv since mother died o' the fever--never. And I'm not well--got a sore throat, which the fog touches up--awful." "I'll--I'll ask my pa'; but I don't think there is anything to give away." The youth knocked at the door, and presently rushed by the servant who opened it, paying no heed to the remark of-- "Well, you are late, Master Sidney, I must say!"