The giant caught the Angel up in his arms. "Hold on to my coat," he cried to Joey, and speedily, such of the crowd as had not swept by in their charge against the police, fell back on either side before Mr. Tomlin's mighty fist. Fighting desperately, he reached the edge, and seizing Joey, dragged him across the car tracks as the crash of stones, the breaking of glass, the sharp crack of firearms, told of the meeting of the forces behind him. Howls of rage, of pain, of defiance answered, followed by further crashing of stones and splintering of glass in street lights and car windows, and not until they were several squares removed from the scene of action did Mr. Tomlin pause. He then laid a heavy hand on Joey. "By all that's--" he began. But Joey was ready for him, and hastily began to pour his earnings from his jacket pocket in a pile upon the flagging. "Me an' Angel made it a-singin' on the street fer to get ice fer Mis' Tomlin," the wily one explained. And the tender-hearted giant, gazing from one small figure to the other, forthwith began to sob like a child. And, oh, the rejoicings of the distracted Tenement when the lost Angel was returned! And how Joey was seized and violently threatened to be as violently forgiven. Mrs. Tomlin, given ice to her heart's content, fell asleep, blessing the Angel for having rescued her husband from the almost certain hands of the law. And when, next day, it was learned that various and sundry of Mr. Tomlin's friends, among them the red-haired gentleman and his dark companion, had been arrested, while Mr. Tomlin was safe at home, the Angel became more than ever the pride and idol of the Tenement. "There's some'n' mighty wrong," Mr. Tomlin was heard arguing soon after, "for a man with the bone and muscle to 'em as I've got, wantin' work an' willin' to do anything, yet havin' to starve--but whatever it is as is wrong, I'm thinkin' mobs ain't the way to right it." "An' if he'd only hed th' sinse to make the furrin' gintleman as could talk the gibberish to question th' Angel choild," said Mrs. O'Malligan indignantly, "sure an' we moight have larned all about her by this toime, entoirely, for there's mony a thing she's tried to tell us an' can't for the want of a worrud. But foind me a man of yer as does any thinkin' 'thout his woman there to prompt him," she quoth contemptuously, "an' I'll foind ye a polaceman as isn't a meddler in other folks' affairs, as this yere mob is jist anither provin' of." CHAPTER VI. THE MAJOR SUPERINTENDS THE ANGEL'S EDUCATION.