hat they says, only the tone of their voices, I
knows just as well whether it's a first class or a third door as I've
got to open as if I saw 'em in the daylight. Rum, ain't it?"

Frank had never thought the matter out, and could only give his general
assent to his companion's proposition.

"Now," the porter went on, "if you go into a factory or workshop, I'll
bet a crown to a penny that before you've been there a week you'll get
called Gentleman Jack, or some such name. You see if you ain't."

"I don't care what they call me," Frank laughed, "so that they'll take
me into the factory."

"All in good time," the porter said; "don't you hurry yourself. As
long as you can stay here you'll be heartily welcome. Just look what
a comfort it is to have you sitting here sociable and comfortable. You
don't suppose I could have sat here alone in this room if you hadn't
been here? I should have been in a public house making a beast of
myself, and spending as much money as would keep the pair of us."

Day after day Frank went out in search of work. In his tramps he visited
scores of workshops and factories, but without success. Either they
did not want boys, or they declined altogether to take one who had no
experience in work, and had no references in the neighborhood. Frank
took his breakfast and tea with the porter, and was glad that the latter
had his dinner at the station, as a penny loaf served his purposes. One
day in his walks Frank entered Covent Garden and stood looking on at the
bustle and flow of business, for it happened to be market day. He leaned
against one of the columns of the piazza, eating the bread he had just
bought. Presently a sharp faced lad, a year or two younger than himself,
came up to him.

"Give us a hit," he said, "I ain't tasted nothing today."

Frank broke the bread in half and gave a portion to him.

"What a lot there is going on here!" Frank said.

"Law!" the boy answered, "that ain't nothing to what it is of a morning.
That's the time, 'special on the mornings of the flower market. It's
hard lines if a chap can't pick up a tanner or even a bob then."

"How?" Frank asked eagerly.

"Why, by holding horses, helping to carry out plants, and such like. You
seems a green 'un, you do. Up from the country, eh? Don't seem like one
of our sort."

"Yes," Frank said, "I'm just up from the country. I thought it would be
easy to get a place in London, but I don't find it so."

"A place!" the boy r