rself. The lady
prevailed on the old woman to attend the meetings for poor, aged, and
infirm women in Miss Macpherson's "Beehive," and little Tim was taken
into the "Home for Destitute Little Boys under ten years of age."

It was not all smooth sailing in that Home after Tim Lumpy entered it!
Being utterly untamed, Tim had many a sore struggle ere the temper was
brought under control. One day he was so bad that the governess was
obliged to punish him by leaving him behind, while the other boys went
out for a walk. When left alone, the lady-superintendent tried to
converse with him about obedience, but he became frightfully violent,
and demanded his rags that he might return again to the streets.
Finally he escaped, rushed to his old home in a paroxysm of rage, and
then, getting on the roof, declared to the assembled neighbours that he
would throw himself down and dash out his brains. In this state a
Bible-woman found him. After offering the mental prayer, "Lord, help
me," she entreated him to come down and join her in a cup of tea with
his old mother. The invitation perhaps struck the little rebel as
having a touch of humour in it. At all events he accepted it and
forthwith descended.

Over the tea, the Bible-woman prayed aloud for him, and the poor boy
broke down, burst into tears, and begged forgiveness. Soon afterwards
he was heard tapping at the door of the Home--gentle and subdued.

Thus was this waif rescued, and he now discussed with his former comrade
the prospect of transferring themselves and their powers, mental and
physical, to Canada. Diverging from this subject to Bobby's father, and
his dark designs, Tim asked if Ned Frog had absolutely decided to break
into Sir Richard Brandon's house, and Bobby replied that he had; that
his father had wormed out of the butler, who was a soft stupid sort of
cove, where the plate and valuables were kept, and that he and another
man had arranged to do it.

"Is the partikler night fixed?" asked Tim.

"Yes; it's to be the last night o' this month."

"Why not give notice?" asked Tim.

"'Cause I won't peach on daddy," said Bob Frog stoutly.

Little Tim received this with a "quite right, old dosser," and then
proposed that the meeting should adjourn, as he was expected back at the
Home by that time.

Two weeks or so after that, Police-Constable Number 666 was walking
quietly along one of the streets of his particular beat in the West-end,
with that stateline