reakfast over, they started off in quest of the old woman with teetotal
proclivities.

"How did you come to know her?" asked Charlie, as they went along.

"Through a 'ouse in the city as I was connected with afore I got run
over an' lamed. They used to send me with parcels to this old 'ooman.
In course I didn't know for sartin' w'at was in the parcels, but 'avin'
a nose, you see, an' bein' able to smell, I guessed that it was a
compound o' wittles an' wursted work."

"A strange compound, Zook."

"Well, they wasn't 'zactly compounded--they was sometimes the one an'
sometimes the other; never mixed to my knowledge."

"What house was it that sent you?"

"Withers and Company."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Charlie in surprise. "I know the house well. The
head of it is a well-known philanthropist. How came you to leave them?
They never would have allowed an old servant to come to your pass--
unless, indeed, he was--"

"A fool, sir, or wuss," interrupted Zook; "an' that's just what I was.
I runned away from 'em, sir, an' I've been ashamed to go back since.
But that's 'ow I come to know old Missis Mag, an' it's down 'ere she
lives."

They turned into a narrow passage which led to a small court at the back
of a mass of miserable buildings, and here they found the residence of
the old woman.

"By the way, Zook, what's her name?" asked Charlie.

"Mrs Mag Samson."

"Somehow the name sounds familiar to me," said Charlie, as he knocked at
the door.

A very small girl opened it and admitted that her missis was at 'ome;
whereupon our hero turned to his companion.

"I'll manage her best without company, Zook," he said; "so you be off;
and see that you come to my lodging to-night at six to hear the result
of my interview and have tea."

"I will, sir."

"And here, Zook, put that in your pocket, and take a good dinner."

"I will, sir."

"And--hallo! Zook, come here. Not a word about all this in the
lodging-house;--stay, now I think of it, don't go to the lodging-house
at all. Go to a casual ward where they'll make you take a good bath.
Be sure you give yourself a good scrub. D'ye hear?"

"Yes, sir." He walked away murmuring, "More 'am and hegg an' buttered
toast to-night! Zook, you're in luck to-day--in clover, my boy! in
clover!"

Meanwhile, Charlie Brooke found himself in the presence of a bright-eyed
little old woman, who bade him welcome with the native grace of one who
is a born, though not a social, lady