imes round his box on his hands before he would say a word, and then
indulged in such a series of winks and grimaces as almost drove me into
impatience.

"Whatever's the matter with you?" I asked, when this performance had
been going on for some time "Oh my!--ain't it a game?" he chuckled.

"What's a game?" I demanded.

"Why--oh, ain't you a flat, though?--why, them there boots!"

"What boots? Why can't you talk sense?"

"Why, that there bloke's boots. When I was a-shinin' of 'em, if the
sole of one on 'em don't come clean off!" he cried, with a grin.

"I don't see anything so very amusing in that," I replied.

"He's gone off to get 'em sewed on," continued the boy, beaming all
over; "and he's a-coming back this way to show me. Bless you, they'll
never sew that there sole on. The upper wouldn't hold it--you see if it
does."

"He will have to get a new pair," I said.

"Why, he ain't _got_ the browns. He's a-saving up, but it'll be a month
afore he's got the brass."

Here Billy positively laughed, so that I felt strongly inclined to give
him a box on the ear for his levity.

"And it's been a-rainin' all day," continued he, jocularly "and the
streets is all one marsh of muck."

"Poor fellow!" said I. "I wish I could lend him a pair of mine."

"Ga on!" cried Billy, scornfully, dropping on his knees before his box.

"I say, guv'nor," said he, in a sudden mysterious tone, "can you keep it
mum?"

"Yes--what?" I asked.

He looked carefully up the street and then down, and then all round. No
one was near. He moved so as to let the light of a neighbouring lamp-
post shine full on the pavement, as with jubilant face he lifted up his
box and disclosed--a pair of new double-soled lace boots!

"Them's for _him_," he said, in an excited whisper.

"For him? Why, Billy, wherever did they come from?"

His grimy face turned up to mine all aglow with pride and triumph as he
answered, "Stole 'em!"

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

HOW I FOUND THAT HOPE DEFERRED MAKES THE HEART SICK.

The reader may picture my horror and astonishment on discovering Billy's
secret. And the strangest part of it was that the graceless youth
appeared to be utterly unconscious that he had done anything wrong. On
the contrary, his jubilant face and triumphant voice showed plainly that
he considered he had done a fine--a splendid thing.

I endeavoured to reason with him; he flared up as if I were trying to
defraud Jack Smith of h