“And will Lenny let ‘Met’ go get some water?” “Yes.” “And sit here and don’t move until I come?” “Yes.” Away ran the girl, and as quickly as she could borrow a bucket and fetch the water she returned to the room. She washed the child very thoroughly and then dressed him in the clean suit that had been provided by Everage. “But dese ain’t Lenny tose,” observed the child. “No, Lenny has got no clean clothes here, so Lenny must wear these,” said the girl. And the child trusted her and was content with the answer. “And now Lenny will have his breakfast?” she asked. “Yes; and Met have _hers_ too,” answered the child. The girl then went to the sleeping men and felt in their pockets. She knew very well that both had cheated their employer in the matter of the price of the milk and the blanket that they had been sent to buy on the previous night, and so she judged they must have the odd change they had swindled Everage out of still in their possession. She was right. She found a sixpence in Roger’s pocket and two shillings in Bill’s. She replaced all the money except one of the shillings, which she confiscated to the use of the right owner, as she called little Lenny. Having possessed herself of this fund, she turned to the child and took him by the hand, saying: “Will Lenny take a walk with ‘Met’?” “Lenny want bekfas first.” “Well, we are going out to buy milk for breakfast—nice new milk. Will Lenny go?” “Pose Doosa tome?” objected the child. “But Doosa won’t come before we get back.” “Well, den Lenny go wid Met.” And they walked out together down to the corner of the alley to the cellar where the milk was sold. And Meg bought new milk and fresh rolls, and a little cheap white mug and plate, all for nine pence. And then she took Lenny back to the attic and gave him his breakfast clean. And through all this the beasts in the attic slept on. CHAPTER XXXIII. LENNY’S EXPERIENCES. Oh! strange new world That has such people in it!—SHAKESPEARE. The beldam was the first to awake. She looked at the child and asked if he had slept well, and if he had had anything to eat, and having received satisfactory answers, she set about preparing her own breakfast. It was her daily custom, in returning home at evening to pick up and put into her wallet almost any sort of trash she might find about the streets; not only rags, but paper, straw, dry leaves, chips, sticks, and so forth. Of these she now made just fire enough in the rusty grate to boil her kettle and make her tea. And then she took from a small bundle a store of crusts and bones and broken victuals, all of which she arranged on the end of the rickety table; and so she made her morning meal. “You may have what’s left. And mind you take care of that child while I’m gone.”