Turning out of his way a little he pushed the letter under Mr. Gibbs’ door, and then directed his steps towards Paddington. He preferred to take the longest way through the streets, because he thought he would like to tread them once more, and say good-bye, as it were, to familiar scenes. On past Westminster he trudged, with a little bundle over his shoulder, on past the Houses of Parliament, where he encountered an early coffee man, and invested in an early cup of his refreshing beverage. He would fain have had a pennyworth of pudding, but the pudding men were all abed, and so were the vendors of chesnuts. The police were awake, and Thomas chuckled quietly to himself, as he passed certain active members of the force, upon the way in which they would be sold at Bow Street next day. He trudged on past Charing Cross and through the Haymarket, along Regent Street and past Regent’s Circus, meeting a few roysterers, early workmen going to half-built houses, and printers going home from daily newspaper offices; he saw a few shambling tramps hanging about doorways, and seeking intervals of repose on doorsteps, whence they were ousted occasionally by policemen; he met stray cabs with early fares, scavengers, and slouching women reeling from infamous dens in by-streets; and he wondered when it would be daylight. By-and-by the great city and its smiling suburbs were left behind, and Thomas was on the white highway, with hedges right and left, and market-gardens behind them; and then morning dawned, and he journeyed on beside carts, and waggons, and met tramps with dusty boots and jackets; for the autumn had been a particularly dry season, and the roads were covered with dust. At length the afternoon began to wane, and Dibble turned into the fields, over a stile, and sat down beside some half-cut corn and untied his bundle. A piece of bread and cheese dropped out, and Thomas, being hungry, fell to with a will. Whilst he was eating, a miserable, lean, lank-looking dog came crouching and smelling towards him. Alone in the wide world, Thomas naturally felt some little sympathy with the vagrant dog, and he threw it a piece of bread and then a piece of cheese. The animal, making certain apologetic snaps at the crumbs, ate them, and then stood upon his hind-legs and seemed to beg for more. Dibble could not help smiling at the quaint, gaunt, spectral-looking dog, with all its ribs showing through its tight ragged skin; and he fed it again. Then the animal walked round Dibble, on his hind-legs, and performed a sort of double shuffle. Dibble was highly amused with this performance, and he laughed very heartily and patted the dog on the head. The animal wagged his tail, turned a somersault, and stood upon his head in such a comical fashion that poor Dibble fairly rolled on his back with laughing, the dog leaping over him and barking in the most extraordinary and un-doglike fashion.