friend into two
of the principal lodging-houses in that neighbourhood. They merely
passed through them, and the missionary, besides commenting on all that
they saw, told his new friend where and what to pay for a night's
lodging. He also explained the few rules that were connected with those
sinks into which the dregs of the metropolitan human family ultimately
settle. Then he accompanied Charlie to the door of his new lodging and
bade him good-night.

It was a dingy little room in which our hero found himself, having an
empty and rusty fire-grate on one side and a window on the other, from
which there was visible a landscape of paved court. The foreground of
the landscape was a pump, the middle distance a wash-tub, and the
background a brick wall, about ten feet distant and fifteen feet high.
There was no sky to the landscape, by reason of the next house. The
furniture was in keeping with the view.

Observing a small sofa of the last century on its last legs in a corner,
Charlie sat down on it and rose again instantly, owing apparently to
rheumatic complaints from its legs.

"La! sir," said the landlady, who had followed him into the room, "you
don't need to fear anythink. That sofar, sir, 'as bin in my family for
three generations. The frame was renoo'd before I was born, an' the
legs I 'ad taken off an' noo ones putt on about fifteen year ago last
Easter as ever was. My last lodger 'ee went through the bottom of it,
w'ich obliged me to 'ave that renoo'd, so it's stronger than ever it
were. If you only keep it well shoved up agin the wall, sir, it'll
stand a'most any weight--only it won't stand jumpin' on. You mustn't
jump on it, sir, with your feet!"

Charlie promised solemnly that he would not jump on it either with his
feet or head, and then asked if he could have tea and a fire. On being
informed that he could have both, he drew out his purse and said--

"Now, Mrs Butt, I expect to stay here for two or three weeks--perhaps
longer. My name is Brooke. I was advised to come here by a gentleman
in the offices of the City Mission. I shall have no visitors--being
utterly unknown in this neighbourhood--except, perhaps, the missionary
who parted from me at the door--"

"Mr Stansfield, sir?" said the landlady.

"Yes. You know him?"

"I've knowed 'im for years, sir. I shall only be too pleased to 'ave
any friend of 'is in my 'ouse, I assure you."

"That's well. Now, Mrs Butt, my motive in coming