. But this fact they
did not know. They had never seen them any other way and they had become
so used to their surroundings that they never noticed the dirt.

The children ran about the court or played in the gutter, barefooted and
bareheaded. Poor little things! there was nobody in Primrose Place to love
or care for them, or teach them to be good. Their mothers would not be
troubled by them, and the children kept out of their way as much as
possible, and, of course, got into that of every body else. This was the
cause of a great deal of quarrelling among the mothers, because, although
they didn't care for their children themselves, they wouldn't let any one
else find fault with them. At the present time three or four boys were
playing at buttons. One of them accused another of cheating, which he
denied. This led to angry words, then to blows, when suddenly one of the
mothers called out:---"'Ere, you Tom, just you leave my Bill alone,
or I'll warm yer!" This was taken up by Tom's mother, and the women fought
the children's battle. In such scenes the children of Primrose Place grew
up---miserable, dirty, and generally neglected.

Sitting alone on the pavement that evening, huddled close to the wall, was
a little boy of six or seven years of age. His fair hair hung in tangled
curls all round his head. His clothes, which had never been made for him,
were much too large, and so ragged that they could scarcely hold together.
As he sat there, with his little bare feet stretched out on the pavement,
he seemed to be watching for somebody, for he kept continually;
looking towards the end of the court which opened out on to the main road.
All at once he started up eagerly as [the one for whom he had been watching
turned the corner.] This was his brother, a boy about ten years of age,
a tired, miserable-looking little fellow, carrying in his hand a broom.
He had been spending the day trying to earn a few pence by sweeping a
crossing. His anxious face changed the instant he caught sight of his
little brother, for these two were all the world to each other.

"I'm so glad you've come 'ome Bob," said Willie. "I've been waitin' such a
long time for yer."

"Poor little chap! I'm a bit late to-day, and I s'pose yer feel lonely.
Ain't yer 'ad no one to play with?"

"No," he replied. "All the boys tease and make such a noise. It makes my
'ead ache. But it's all right now you've come 'ome," he added cheerfully.

Bob l