"And good pay too, if you earn it," observed the blacksmith. "Well, it won't make much difference to my eight horses, I expect," said the driver, looking at Joey; "so come along, youngster: you may perch yourself on top of the straw, above the goods." "First come in with me, child," said the wife of the blacksmith; "you must have some good victuals to take with you--so, while you shoe the horse, John, I'll see to the boy." The woman put before Joey a dish in which were the remains of more than one small joint, and our hero commenced his attack without delay. "Have you any money, child?" inquired the woman. Joey, who thought she might expect payment, replied, "Yes ma'am, I've got a shilling;" and he pulled one out of his pocket and laid it out on the table. "Bless the child! what do you take me for, to think that I would touch your money? You are a long way from London yet, although you have got such a chance to get there. Do you know where to go when you get there?" "Yes, ma'am," replied Joey; "I shall get work in the stables, I believe." "Well, I dare say that you will; but in the meantime you had better save your shilling--so we'll find something to put this meat and bread up for your journey. Are you quite warm now?" "Yes, thank'ee, ma'am." Joey, who had ceased eating, had another warm at the fire, and in a few minutes, having bade adieu, and giving his thanks to the humane people, he was buried in the straw below the tilt of the waggon, with his provisions deposited beside him, and the waggon went on his slow and steady pace, to the tune of its own jingling bells. Joey, who had quite recovered from his chill, nestled among the straw, congratulating himself that he should now arrive safely in London, without more questioning. And such was the case: in three days and three nights, without any further adventure, he found himself, although he was not aware of it, in Oxford-street, somewhat about eight or nine o'clock in the evening. "Do you know your way now, boy?" said the carman. "I can ask it," replied Joey, "as soon as I can go to the light and read the address. Good-bye, and thank you," continued he, glad at last to be clear of any more evasive replies. The carman shook him by the hand as they passed the Boar and Castle, and bade him farewell, and our hero found himself alone in the vast metropolis. What was he to do? He hardly knew--but one thought struck him, which was, that he must find a bed for the night. He wandered up and down Oxford Street for some time, but every one walked so quick that he was afraid to speak to them: at last a little girl, of seven or eight years of age, passed by him, and looked him earnestly in the face. "Can you tell me where I can get a bed for the night?" said Joey. "Have you any brads?" was the reply. "What are those?" said Joey. "Any money, to be sure; why, you're green--quite." "Yes, I have a shilling." "That will do--come along, and you shall sleep with me."