taking their one
coat, and the boy seemed to lack the energy to contest the matter. For
an hour they wandered about the wharves, till at last Love stopped short
and said,--

"Gov'nor, I don't want no breakfast. I'll just go back and--"

The sentence ended in a whimper, and but for Reginald's arm round him he
would have fallen.

Reginald knew now that his worst fears were realised. Love was ill, and
it was only too easy to surmise what his illness was, especially when he
called to mind the boy's statement that he had been taking shelter in
the infected lodging-house ten days ago, during his temporary exile from
Shy Street.

He helped him back tenderly to the place--for other shelter they had
none--and laid him in his bed. The boy protested that he was only
tired, that his back and legs ached, and would soon be well. Reginald,
inexperienced as he was, knew better, or rather worse.

He had a battle royal, as he expected, with the landlady on the subject
of his little patient. At first she would listen to nothing, and
threatened to turn both out by force. But Reginald, with an eloquence
which only extremities can inspire, reasoned with her, coaxed her,
flattered her, bribed her with promises, and finally got far enough on
the right side of her to obtain leave for the boy to occupy Durfy's bed
until some other lodger should want it. But she must have a shilling
down, or off they must go.

It was a desperate alternative,--to quit his little charge in his
distress, or to see him turned out to die in the street. Reginald,
however, had little difficulty in making his choice.

"Are you comfortable?" said he to the boy, leaning over him and soothing
the coarse pillow.

"Yes, gov'nor--all right--that there ache will be gone soon, and see if
I don't pick up some browns afore evening."

"Do you think you can get on if I leave you a bit? I think I know where
I can earn a little, and I'll be back before night, never fear."

"Maybe you'll find me up and about when you comes," said the boy;
"mayhap the old gal would give me a job sweeping or somethink."

"You must not think of it," said Reginald, almost sternly. "Mind, I
trust you to be quiet till I come. How I wish I had some food!"

With heavy heart he departed, appealing to the woman, for pity's sake,
not to let harm come to the boy in his absence.

Where should he go? what should he do? Half a crown would make him feel
the richest man in Liverpool, and ye