Alderman Cute's house.

"It's impossible," cried Toby, "that your name is Will Fern?"

"That's my name," said the man.

Thereupon Toby told him what he had just heard, and said, "Don't go
there."

Poor Will told him how he could not make a living in the country, and
had come to London with his orphan niece to try to find a friend of her
mother's and to endeavor to get some work, and, wishing Toby a happy New
Year, was about to trudge wearily off again, when Trotty caught his
hand, saying--

"Stay! The New Year never can be happy to me if I see the child and you
go wandering away without a shelter for your heads. Come home with me.
I'm a poor man, living in a poor place; but I can give you lodging for
one night, and never miss it. Come home with me! Here! I'll take her!"
cried Trotty, lifting up the child. "A pretty one! I'd carry twenty
times her weight and never know I'd got it. Tell me if I go too quick
for you. I'm very fast. I always was!" Trotty said this, taking about
six of his trotting paces to one stride of his tired companion, and with
his thin legs quivering again beneath the load he bore.

"Why, she's as light," said Trotty, trotting in his speech as well as in
his gait--for he couldn't bear to be thanked, and dreaded a moment's
pause--"as light as a feather. Lighter than a peacock's feather--a great
deal lighter. Here we are and here we go!" And, rushing in, he set the
child down before his daughter. The little girl gave one look at Meg's
sweet face and ran into her arms at once, while Trotty ran round the
room, saying, "Here we are and here we go. Here, Uncle Will, come to the
fire. Meg, my precious darling, where's the kettle? Here it is and here
it goes, and it'll bile in no time!"

"Why, father!" said Meg, as she knelt before the child and pulled off
her wet shoes, "you're crazy to-night, I think. I don't know what the
bells would say to that. Poor little feet, how cold they are!"

"Oh, they're warmer now!" exclaimed the child. "They're quite warm now!"

"No, no, no," said Meg. "We haven't rubbed 'em half enough. We're so
busy. And when they're done, we'll brush out the damp hair; and when
that's done, we'll bring some color to the poor pale face with fresh
water; and when that's done, we'll be so gay and brisk and happy!"

The child, sobbing, clasped her round the neck, saying, "O Meg, O dear
Meg!"

"Good gracious me!" said Meg presently, "father's crazy. He's put the
dear child's bonnet o