"By no means," answered Mrs. Martin good-humouredly; "leave the little fellow for a few moments; I daresay he is hungry. Follow me, little one." There is no doubt that Robin was hungry, ravenously hungry, and he certainly lost neither time nor inclination in following his hostess into the big, bright, warm kitchen, where, indeed, he beheld luxuries his ignorant young soul had never even dreamed of. By this time Pansy and Cherry had demolished their apple turnovers; and when they saw their mother and the little ragged stranger, they scrambled off their chairs and ran forward to meet them; but Mrs. Martin, perceiving Robin's dirt, would permit of no contact with her own children. She believed herself an excellent Christian and a charitable woman; but both her charity and Christianity would only carry her certain lengths. Motioning the eager Pansy and Cherry back with a wave of her hand and t quick, sharp word, she called to Robin to follow her to the scullery. Here the kitchen-maid, Betty, regaled him plentifully with cold pork and potatoes; but even she did not care to touch the neglected child. Robin, however, oblivious of all possible want of manners in his treatment, regarded himself as the luckiest boy in the world. But in the delight of satisfying the cravings of his healthy appetite, he was not so overpowered as to forget his primary object; and when he had finished such a meal as Betty afterwards declared "no Christian 'ad ever got inside of hisself afore," he suddenly darted past her, right into the kitchen, and up to Mrs. Martin's side. "Stand back, little fellow," said Mrs. Martin, not unkindly, as, coming too near, he trod on her clean print gown. "Please 'm," said Robin, "I'm a ready now!" "For what, child?" "To be took to the Lock-h'up. I 'as h'eat full and plenty, and I'm quite ready." "But I don't want to send you to any Lock-up, little boy; I am glad you had a meal to eat. Run away now; Betty will show you to the gate: you are quite ten miles out of London." At these words of Mrs. Martin's Robin felt his buoyant heart utterly failing him. Was it possible that his daring enterprise was going to fail after all? "Ain't I to be a punished?" he asked. "No, no; foolish child, what am I to punish you for?" "Ain't it real bad to curl h'up and go to sleep in the nice 'ot 'ay? I thought as it wor real bad." "It was not a very nice thing to do, but I forgive you." "But, oh! 'm please 'm, I doesn't want to be forgive." By this time Mrs. Martin was both puzzled and annoyed. "You are talking nonsense, child--what do you want?" "To be took to the Lock-h'up." "Little idiot! what do you mean? you must be mad to wish to go to such a place." "I ain't mad, I ain't--I wants fur to see Helen." "Who is Helen?" "Ohl she's my mother, and she's in prison; and ef I went to the Lock-h'up I'd be took back to 'er--oh! oh! oh!" Here Robin's courage and fortitude failed him, and he began to sob most piteously.