ther words, he must attend drill. There's a drill class
belonging to each station. It is under the charge of an instructor and
two assistant instructors. Each man, on appointment, joins this class,
and learns the use of all the different appliances required for the
extinction of fire.

William Price had not quite completed his eight weeks' drill.

"Yes, it was a ticklish piece of work," continued Anderson. "The poor
chap he rescued was surrounded by flames. Then, too, the street was so
narrow and the crowd so great that the whole matter is simply wonderful;
but that policeman who kept order was a fine fellow."

"Why, it worn't never the fire as we come from jest now!" here burst
from Sue.

"Hush--hush, Cinderella!" said Pickles, who had come back, giving her a
push under the table. "It 'ud be more suitable to yer present sitiwation
ef yer didn't talk. In course it wor that same fire. Why, it wor that
deed o' bravery done by my own nearest o' kin as incited me to hact as I
did by you."

"Whoever is the girl?" said Price, noticing poor Sue for the first time.

"Cinderella's the name of this 'ere misfortunate maiden," replied
Pickles; "an' yer ax no more questions, Bill, an' yer'll get no stories
told."

"I must go, Mrs. Price," said Anderson; "but I'll be back again as soon
as possible."

"Tell me first, George," said the widow, "how your mother is."

"I haven't been to see her for a few days, but she wrote to say that
both the children who were rescued from the fire a few days back are
doing fairly well. The boy was bad at first, but is now recovering."

"Ah! that was a brave deed," said Price in a voice of the greatest
admiration.

"And did she tell you the names of the poor little critters?"

"She did. Connie was the name of one----"

"Connie?" cried Sue, springing to her feet.

"Sit down, Cinderella, and keep yourself quiet," cried Pickles.

George Anderson gave the queer little girl who went by this name a
puzzled glance.

"Yes," he said briefly, "Connie was the name of one, and Ronald the name
of the other. I never saw a more beautiful little creature in all the
world than Connie."

"That's _'er_!" broke from Sue's irrepressible lips.

CHAPTER XIX.

A SAINTLY LADY.

When so many strange things were happening, we may be sure that Father
John was not idle. He had hoped much from Peter Harris's knowledge of
the byways and dens and alleys of Westminster. But although Peter was
accompan