For the next year and a half this little half-starved waif and stray used to wander about the streets. Now singing a ballad in a full sweet voice, that might have drawn forth admiration in many a fashionable church choir; now selling fusees; now sweeping a crossing; now hiding behind a doorway to devour a stolen prize; passing his nights when he chanced to have a few pence, and could give himself the luxury of a bed, in a miserable low lodging-house, where he was largely instructed in vice; or when he could not, lying down under arches, at the waterside, near the market-places, behind street hoardings, in the open hall-passages of the poor-houses, or in walking the streets throughout the night. His life in the open air and the variety of his food kept him more or less in health; he was hardy, and thought little of hardships. A true Arab child was he, independent, untamed; and, all things considered, his young heart was most times light as a feather, his laugh gay as a bird's song. He was full of fun and mischief, and would venture in his recklessness to hurl saucy answers at his natural enemies, the police; for he had quickly lost his desire to follow Helen to prison. He would sometimes even dare these worthies to catch him, and then, when the exasperated dignitary of the law advanced one foot for the purpose, he would dart away swift as a bird, cunning as a little fox. He had plenty of companions, and was a favourite with the boys and girls of his own standing and circumstances; his plunder he freely shared with them, but he refused point blank to become "pardiner" with any. Many a boy and girl longed for this post, but Robin was firm, he would secure his own "wittles," he said, and be beholden to none.