we can do--no help we can give you?'

'Nothing,' he answers fiercely; 'I don't want your pity. Do you think I
can't see that you wouldn't touch me with the tongs if you could help
it? It's too late to snivel over me now, and I'm well enough as I am.
You leave me alone to go to the devil my own way; it's all I ask of you.
Good-bye. It's Christmas, isn't it? I haven't dreamed _that_ at all
events. Well, I wish you and Lionel as merry a Christmas as I mean to
have. I can't say more than that in the way of enjoyment.'

He turns on his heel at the last words and slouches off down the narrow
lane by which he had come. Ethel Rolleston stands for a while, looking
after his receding form till the fog closes round it and she can see it
no more. She feels as if she had seen a ghost; and for her at least the
enclosure before the deserted house next door will be haunted
evermore--haunted by a forlorn and homeless figure sobbing there by the
railings.

As for the man, he goes on his way until he finds a door
which--alas!--is not closed against him.

_TOMMY'S HERO_

A STORY FOR SMALL BOYS

It was the night after Tommy had been taken to his first pantomime, and
he had been lying asleep in his little bedroom (for now that he was nine
he slept in the night nursery no longer); he had been asleep, when he
was suddenly awakened by a brilliant red glare. At first he was afraid
the house was on fire, but when the red turned to a dazzling green, he
gave a great gasp of delight, for he thought the transformation scene
was still going on. 'And there's all the best part still to come,' he
said to himself.

But as he became wider awake, he saw that it was out of the question to
expect his bedroom to hold all those wonders, and he was almost
surprised to see that there was even so much as a single fairy in it. A
fairy there was, nevertheless; she stood there with a star in her hair,
and her dress shimmering out all around her, just as he had seen her a
few hours before, when she rose up, with little jerks, inside a great
gilded shell, and spoke some poetry, which he didn't quite catch.

She spoke audibly enough now, nor was her voice so squeaky as it had
sounded before. 'Little boy,' she began, 'I am the ruling genius of
Pantomime Fairyland. You entered my kingdom for the first time last
night--how did you enjoy yourself?'

'Oh,' said Tommy, '_so_ much; it was splendid, thank you!'

She smiled and seemed well pleased. 'I always