t that cut on your
shoulder. Do!"

"No, no, Molly," returned the man, as he pushed his wife playfully away
from him. "Hands off! You know the punishment for assaulting the
police is heavy! Now then, Monty," (to the boy), "give up my helmet and
truncheon. I must be off."

"Not yet, daddy," cried Monty, "I's a pleeceman of the A Division,
Number 2, 'ats me, an' I'm goin' to catch a t'ief. I 'mell 'im."

"You smell him, do you? Where is he, d'you think?"

"Oh! I know," replied the small policeman--here he came close up to his
father, and, getting on tiptoe, said in a very audible whisper, "he's
under de table, but don' tell 'im I know. His name's Joe!"

"All right, I'll keep quiet, Monty, but look alive and nab him quick,
for I must be off."

Thus urged the small policeman went on tiptoe to the table, made a
sudden dive under it, and collared his little brother.

The arrest, however, being far more prompt than had been expected, the
"t'ief" refused to be captured. A struggle ensued, in the course of
which the helmet rolled off, a corner of the tablecloth was pulled down,
and the earthenware teapot fell with a crash to the floor.

"It's my duty, I fear," said Giles, "to take you both into custody and
lock you up in a cell for breaking the teapot as well as the peace, but
I'll be merciful and let you off this time, Monty, if you lend your
mother a hand to pick up the pieces."

Monty agreed to accept this compromise. The helmet and truncheon were
put to their proper uses, and the merciful police-constable went out "on
duty."

CHAPTER SIX.

WEALTH PAYS A VISIT TO POVERTY.

It was an interesting sight to watch police-constable Number 666 as he
went through the performance of his arduous duties that day at the
Regent Circus in Oxford Street.

To those who are unacquainted with London, it may be necessary to remark
that this circus is one of those great centres of traffic where two main
arteries cross and tend to cause so much obstruction, that complete
stoppages would become frequent were it not for the admirable management
of the several members of the police force who are stationed there to
keep order. The "Oxford Circus," as it is sometimes called, is by no
means the largest or most crowded of such crossings, nevertheless the
tide of traffic is sufficiently strong and continuous there to require
several police-constables on constant duty. When men are detailed for
such "Fixed-Point" duty they