g in his wretched condition to his
earthly father.

It was at this point that the couple had come under the sharp stern eye
of Number 666, who, as we have seen, went quietly out and conveyed the
information direct to the Twitter family.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE RETURNING PRODIGAL.

For a considerable time the Bible-seller plied Sam with every argument
he could think of in order to induce him to return home, and he was
still in the middle of his effort when the door opened, and two young
men of gentlemanly appearance walked in, bearing a portable harmonium
between them.

They were followed by one of the ladies of the Beehive, who devote all
their time--and, may we not add, all their hearts--to the rescue of the
perishing. Along with her came a tall, sweet-faced girl. She was our
friend Hetty Frog, who, after spending her days at steady work, spent
some of her night hours in labours of love. Hetty was passionately fond
of music, and had taught herself to play the harmonium sufficiently to
accompany simple hymns.

After her came the missionary, whose kind face was familiar to most of
the homeless ones there. They greeted him with good-natured
familiarity, but some of their faces assumed a somewhat vinegar aspect
when the tall form of Sir Richard Brandon followed Seaward.

"A bloated haristocrat!" growled one of the men.

"Got a smart little darter, anyhow," remarked another, as Di, holding
tight to her father's hand, glanced from side to side with looks of
mingled pity and alarm.

For poor little Di had a not uncommon habit of investing everything in
_couleur de rose_, and the stern reality which met her had not the
slightest tinge of that colour. Di had pictured to herself clean rags
and picturesque poverty. The reality was dirty rags and disgusting
poverty. She had imagined sorrowful faces. Had she noted them when the
missionary passed, she might indeed have seen kindly looks; but when her
father passed there were only scowling faces, nearly all of which were
unshaven and dirty. Di had not thought at all of stubbly beards or
dirt! Neither had she thought of smells, or of stifling heat that it
was not easy to bear. Altogether poor little Di was taken down from a
height on that occasion to which she never again attained, because it
was a false height. In after years she reached one of the true
heights--which was out of sight higher than the false one!

There was something very businesslike in