"Sorry for that," returned Bobby, "'cause I'm in want of a sitivation."

"What can you do?" asked the man.

"Oh! hanythink."

"Ah, I thought so; I don't want hands who can do anything, I prefer
those who can do something."

Bobby Frog resumed his whistling, at the exact bar where he had left
off, and went on his way. He was used to rebuffs, and didn't mind them.
But when he had spent all the forenoon in receiving rebuffs, had made
no progress whatever in his efforts, and began to feel hungry, he ceased
the whistling and became grave.

"This looks serious," he said, pausing in front of a pastry-cook's shop
window. "But for that there plate glass _wot_ a blow hout I might 'ave!
Beggin' might be tried with advantage. It's agin the law, no doubt,
but it ain't a _sin_. Yes, I'll try beggin'."

But our Arab was not a natural beggar, if we may say so. He scorned to
whine, and did not even like to ask. His spirit was much more like that
of a highwayman than a beggar.

Proceeding to a quiet neighbourhood which seemed to have been forgotten
by the police, he turned down a narrow lane and looked out for a
subject, as a privateer might search among "narrows" for a prize. He
did not search long. An old lady soon hove in sight. She seemed a
suitable old lady, well-dressed, little, gentle, white-haired, a
tottering gait, and a benign aspect.

Bobby went straight up and planted himself in front of her.

"Please, ma'am, will you oblige me with a copper?"

The poor old lady grew pale. Without a word she tremblingly, yet
quickly, pulled out her purse, took therefrom a shilling, and offered it
to the boy.

"Oh! marm," said Bobby, who was alarmed and conscience-smitten at the
result of his scheme, "I didn't mean for to frighten you. Indeed I
didn't, an' I won't 'ave your money at no price."

Saying which he turned abruptly round and walked away.

"Boy, boy, _boy_!" called the old lady in a voice so entreating, though
tremulous, that Bobby felt constrained to return.

"You're a most remarkable boy," she said, putting the shilling back into
her purse.

"I'm sorry to say, marm, that you're not the on'y indiwidooal as 'olds
that opinion."

"What do you mean by your conduct, boy?"

"I mean, marm, that I'm wery 'ard up. _Uncommon_ 'ard up; that I've
tried to git vork an' can't git it, so that I'm redooced to beggary.
But, I ain't a 'ighway robber, marm, by no means, an' don't want to
frighten you hout o' your mo