I was to live as long as Meethusilim I'd never forget Miss Dotropy."

"Well," continued Mrs Bright, "she wrote and asked Joe Davidson's wife
to send her a fisher-boy to London for a day or two, and she'd pay his
railway fare up an' back, and all his expenses. What ever Miss Ruth
wants to do with him I don't know, nor any one else. Mrs Davidson
couldn't find a boy that was fit to send, so she said she'd wait till
you came back, Billy, and send _you_ up."

"Well, wonders ain't a-goin' to cease yet a while," exclaimed Billy,
with a look of gratified pride. "Hows'ever, I'm game for anythink--from
pitch an' toss up'ards. When am I to start, mother?"

"To-morrow, by the first train."

"All right--an' what sort o' rig? I couldn't go in them 'ere slops, you
know. It wouldn't give 'em a k'rect idear o' Yarmouth boys, would it?"

"Of course not sonny, an I've got ready your old Sunday coat, it ain't
too small for you yet--an' some other things."

Accordingly, rigged out, as he expressed it, in a well-mended and
brushed pilot-cloth coat; a round blue-cloth cap; a pair of trousers to
match, and a pair of new shoes, Billy found himself speeding towards the
great city with what he styled "a stiff breakfast under hatches, four or
five shillings in the locker, an' a bu'stin' heart beneath his veskit."

In a few hours he found himself in the bewildering streets, inquiring
his way to the great square in the West End where Mrs Dotropy dwelt.

The first person of whom he made inquiry was a street boy, and, while he
was speaking, the city Arab regarded the provincial boy's innocent
face--for it was a peculiarly innocent face when in repose--with a look
of mingled curiosity and cunning.

"Now look 'ee here, young 'un," said the Arab, "I don't know nothink
about the Vest End squares, an' what's more I don't want to, but I do
know a lot about the East End streets, an' if you'll come with me,
I'll--"

"Thank 'ee, no," interrupted Billy, with unlooked-for decision, "I've
got business to look arter at the _West_ End."

"Yell, cooriously enough," returned the Arab, "I've got business at the
_East_ End. By the vay, you don't 'appen to 'ave any browns--any
coppers--about you--eh?"

"Of course I has. You don't suppose a man goes cruisin' about Lun'on
without any shot in the locker, do you?"

"To be sure not," responded the street boy; "I might 'ave know'd that a
man like you wouldn't, anyhow. Now, it so 'appens that I'm wery