his looks. "Unless you take what's left there, I'll
throw it all into the road."

In vain Love protested, vowed he loathed coffee, that it made him sick,
that he preferred prussic acid; Reginald was inexorable, and the boy was
obliged to submit. In like manner, no wile or device could save him
from having to share the slice of bread; nor, when he did put it to his
lips, could any grimace or protest hide the almost ravenous eagerness
with which at last he devoured it.

"Now you wait till I take back the can," said Love. "I'll not be a
minute," and he darted off, leaving Reginald strengthened in mind and
body by the frugal repast.

It was not till the boy returned that he noticed he wore no coat.

"What have you done with it?" he demanded sternly.

"Me? What are you talking about?" said the boy, looking guiltily
uneasy.

"Don't deceive me!" said Reginald. "Where's your coat?"

"What do I want with coats? Do you--"

"Have you sold it for our breakfast?"

"Go on! Do you think--"

"Have you?" repeated Reginald, this time almost angrily.

"Maybe I 'ave," said the boy; "ain't I got a right to?"

"No, you haven't; and you'll have to wear mine now."

And he proceeded to take it off, when the boy said,--

"All right. If you take that off, gov'nor, I slides--I mean it--so I
do."

There was a look of such wild determination in his pinched face that
Reginald gave up the struggle for the present.

"We'll share it between us, at any rate," said he. "Whatever induced
you to do such a foolish thing, Love?"

"Bless you, I ain't got no sense," replied the boy cheerily.

Day broke at last, and Liverpool once more became alive with bustle and
traffic. No one noticed the two shivering boys as they wended their way
through the streets, trying here and there, but in vain, for work, and
wondering where and when they should find their next meal. But for
Reginald that walk, faint and footsore as he was, was a pleasure-trip
compared with the night's wanderings.

Towards afternoon Love had the rare good fortune to see a gentleman drop
a purse on the pavement. There was no chance of appropriating it, had
he been so minded, which, to do him justice, he was not, for the purse
fell in a most public manner in the sight of several onlookers. But
Love was the first to reach it and hand it back to its owner.

Now Love's old story-books had told him that honesty of this sort is a
very paying sort of business; and thoug