and was ordering the people
about like one accustomed to command.

As part of the orders were of such a satisfactory nature, the people did
not object, and, to the everlasting honour of the juvenile bystander who
resisted the temptation to bolt with the gold, a splendid supper of pork
sausages was smoking on the various tables of the kitchen of that
establishment in less than an hour thereafter.

When the late hours of night had arrived, and most of the paupers were
asleep in their poor beds, dreaming, perchance, of "better days" when
pork-sausages were not so tremendous a treat, little Zook went to the
table at which Charlie sat. He was staring at a newspaper, but in
reality was thinking about his vain search, and beginning, if truth must
be told, to feel discouraged.

"Charlie," said Zook, sitting down beside his champion, "or p'r'aps I
should say _Mister_ Charlie, the game's up wi' you, whatever it was."

"What d'you mean, Zook?"

"Well, I just mean that it's o' no manner o' use your tryin' to sail any
longer under false colours in this here establishment."

"I must still ask you to explain yourself," said Charlie, with a puzzled
look.

"Well, you know," continued the little man, with a deprecatory glance,
"w'en a man in ragged clo'se orders people here about as if 'e was the
commander-in-chief o' the British Army, an' flings yellow boys about as
if 'e was chancellor o' the checkers, an orders sassengers offhand for
all 'ands, 'e _may_ be a gentleman--wery likely 'e is,--but 'e ain't a
redooced one, such as slopes into lodgin'-'ouse kitchens. W'atever
little game may 'ave brought you 'ere, sir, it ain't poverty--an' nobody
will be fool enough in _this_ 'ouse to believe it is."

"You are right, Zook. I'm sorry I forgot myself," returned Charlie,
with a sigh. "After all, it does not matter much, for I fear my little
game--as you call it--was nearly played out, and it does not seem as if
I were going to win."

Charlie clasped his hands on the table before him, and looked at the
newspaper somewhat disconsolately.

"It's bin all along o' takin' up my cause," said the little man, with
something like a whimper in his voice. "You've bin wery kind to me,
sir, an' I'd give a lot, if I 'ad it, an' would go a long way if I
wasn't lame, to 'elp you."

Charlie looked steadily in the honest, pale, careworn face of his
companion for a few seconds without speaking. Poverty, it is said,
brings together strange bed