'bus that day, but hurried down side
alleys and back streets until they got into the region of Piccadilly.
The children had not the least idea where they were. Suddenly, however,
they came to a pause outside a large hotel, and there Mrs. Warren struck
up the first note of "Home, Sweet Home."

She had timed everything well. The policeman was at the other end of his
beat, and she would not be molested for quite ten minutes. The
quavering, ugly notes of the old woman were well subdued, and Connie had
a really fine voice, and it rose high on the bitter air in sweet,
childish appeal and confidence. Ronald, too, was struck with a sudden
thought. That hotel was a sort of place where father used to live when
he was alive. Who could tell if his father himself might not have
returned, and might not be there, and might not hear him if he sang loud
enough and sweet enough?

The voice of the boy and the voice of the girl blended together, and
Mrs. Warren skilfully dropped hers so as not to spoil the harmony. The
people in the hotel were attracted by the sweet notes, and crowded to
the windows. Then Connie's face of purest beauty--Connie's face rendered
all the more pathetic by the old bonnet and the dreadful, tattered
dress--and Ronald with his head thrown back, his red cap held in his
hand, the white snow falling in flakes on his rich dark hair, made
between them a picture which would melt the hardest heart. Sixpences and
even shillings were showered from the windows, and as the last note of
"Home, Sweet Home" died away Mrs. Warren pocketed quite a considerable
harvest.

She and the children then moved on and did likewise before several other
large buildings, but they were not so successful again as they had been
with their first attempt. The police came back sooner than they were
expected. Ronald began to cough, too, and Connie's face looked blue with
cold. Mrs. Warren, however, was not disappointed. She spoke
encouragingly and protectingly to the children.

"Come 'ome, loveys," she said; "come 'ome, my little dears."

They did get home--or, rather, they got back to the dreadful house where
they were imprisoned--late in the afternoon, Ronald almost speechless
with cold and fatigue, Connie trembling also, and aching in every limb.

But now unwonted comforts awaited them. Mrs. Warren had no idea of
killing off these sources of wealth. She put Ronald into a hot bath, and
rubbed his limbs until they glowed, and then moved his li