e been thinkin' about 'im the whole time,
an' I've made up my mind what to do. The only thing I ain't sure of is
whether I shouldn't take my friend Phil Maylands into partnership."

"Oh, please, don't," pleaded Tottie; "I shouldn't like 'im to know about
father."

"Well, the less he knows about 'im the better. P'r'aps you're right.
I'll do it alone, so you cut away home. I'll go to have my personal
appearance improved, and then off to Charing Cross. Lots of time,
Tottie. Don't be anxious. Try if you can trust me. I'm small, no
doubt, but I'm tough.--Good-night."

When Abel Bones seated himself that night in a third-class carriage at
Charing Cross, and placed a neat little black hand-bag, in which he
carried his housebreaking tools, on the floor between his feet, a small
negro boy entered the carriage behind him, and, sitting down directly
opposite, stared at him as if lost in unutterable amazement.

Mr Bones took no notice of the boy at first, but became annoyed at last
by the pertinacity of his attention.

"Well, you chunk of ebony," he said, "how much are you paid a week for
starin'?"

"No pound no shillin's an' nopence, massa, and find myself," replied the
negro so promptly that Bones smiled in spite of himself. Being,
however, in no mood for conversation, he looked out at the carriage
window and let the boy stare to his heart's content.

On drawing up to the platform of the station for Rosebud Cottage, Mr
Bones seemed to become anxious, stretched his head out at the carriage
window, and muttered to himself. On getting out, he looked round with a
disappointed air.

"Failed me!" he growled, with an anathema on some one unknown. "Well,
I'll do it alone," he muttered, between his teeth.

"O no! you won't, my fine fellow," thought the negro boy; "I'll help you
to do it, and make you do it badly, if you do it at all.--May I carry
your bag, massa?" he added, aloud.

Mr Bones replied with a savage kick, which the boy eluded nimbly, and
ran with a look of mock horror behind a railway van. Here he put both
hands to his sides, and indulged in a chuckle so hearty--though
subdued--that an ordinary cat, to say nothing of a Cheshire one, might
have joined him from sheer sympathy.

"O the brute!" he gasped, on partially recovering, "and Tottie!--
Tottie!! why she's--" Again this eccentric boy went off into subdued
convulsions, in which state he was discovered by a porter, and chased
off the premises.

Dur