yours--Twitter, I think, was his name--
who disappeared so suddenly?"

"Nothing whatever. I have made inquiries in all directions--for I had a
great liking for the poor fellow. I went also to see his parents, but
they seemed too much cut up to talk on the subject at all, and knew
nothing of his whereabouts."

"Ah! it is a very sad case--very," said Sir Richard, as they all
descended to the street. "We might, perhaps, call at their house
to-night in passing." Entering a cab, they drove away.

From the foregoing conversation the reader will have gathered that the
party were about to visit the Beehive, or Home of Industry, and that Sir
Richard, through the instrumentality of little Di and the city
missionary, had actually begun to think about the poor!

It was a special night at the Beehive. A number of diamonds with some
of their dust rubbed off--namely, a band of little boys, rescued from
the streets and from a probable life of crime, were to be assembled
there to say farewell to such friends as took an interest in them.

The Hive had been a huge warehouse. It was now converted, with but
slight structural alteration, into a great centre of Light in that
morally dark region, from which emanated gospel truth and Christian
influence, and in which was a refuge for the poor, the destitute, the
sin-smitten, and the sorrowful. Not only poverty, but sin-in-rags, was
sure of help in the Beehive. It had been set agoing to bring, not the
righteous, but sinners, to repentance.

When Sir Richard arrived he found a large though low-roofed room crowded
with people, many of whom, to judge from their appearance, were, like
himself, diamond-seekers from the "west-end," while others were
obviously from the "east-end," and had the appearance of men and women
who had been but recently unearthed. There were also city missionaries
and other workers for God in that humble-looking hall. Among them sat
Mr John Seaward and George Brisbane, Esquire.

Placing Di and Welland near the latter, Sir Richard retired to a corner
where one of the ladies of the establishment was distributing tea to all
comers.

"Where are your boys, may I ask?" said the knight, accepting a cup of
tea.

"Over in the left corner," answered the lady. "You can hardly see them
for the crowd, but they will stand presently."

At that moment, as if to justify her words, a large body of boys rose
up, at a sign from the superintending genius of the place, and be