"Yes--ain't it jolly convenient?" continued the other. "Well, w'en I got to the 'ouse I set to work, made a rousin' fire, put on the kettle, cooked the wittles as if I'd bin born and bred in a 'otel, and in less than five minutes 'ad a smokin' dinner on the table, that would 'ave busted an alderman. In course the Wilkins axed no questions. Father, mother, five kids, and self all drew in our chairs, and sot down--" "What fun!" exclaimed Stumpy. "Ay, but you spoilt the fun, for it was just at that time you shoved your fist into my ribs, and woke me before one of us could get a bite o' that grub into our mouths. If we'd even 'ad time to smell it, that would 'ave bin somethink to remember." "Howlet," said the other impressively, "d'ye think the Wilkins is livin' in the same place still?" "As like as not." "Could you find it again?" "Could I find Saint Paul's, or the Moniment? I should think so!" "Come along, then, and let's pay 'em a wisit." They were not long in finding the place--a dirty court at the farther end of a dark passage. Owlet led the way to the top of a rickety stair, and knocked at one of the doors which opened on the landing. No answer was returned, but after a second application of the knuckles, accompanied by a touch of the toe, a growling voice was heard, then a sound of some one getting violently out of bed, a heavy tread on the floor, and the door was flung open. "What d'ee want?" demanded a fierce, half-drunken man. "Please, sir, does the Wilkins stop here?" "No, they don't," and the door was shut with a bang. "Sweet creature!" observed Stumpy as they turned disappointed away. "Wonder if his mother 'as any more like 'im?" said Owlet. "They've 'ad to change to the cellar," said a famished-looking woman, putting her head out of a door on the same landing. "D'ye want 'em?" "In course we does, mother, else we wouldn't ax for 'em. W'ereabouts is the cellar?" "Foot o' this stair." Descending to the regions below, the two boys groped their way along an underground passage till they came to a door. It was opened by a woman, who timidly demanded what they wanted. "It's me, Missis Wilkin. 'Ave you forgotten Howlet?" With an exclamation of surprise and joy the woman flung the door wide, seized Owlet, dragged him into the room, and embraced him with as much affection as if he had been her own child. Instantly there arose a shout of juvenile joy, and Stumpy could see, in the semi-darkness, that four little creatures were helping their mother to overwhelm his friend, while a fifth--a biggish girl--was prevented from joining them by the necessity that lay on her to take care of the baby.