d him to unclench his fists and reel round the corner on
his way to a neighbouring grog-shop. Whatever other shops may decay in
that region, the grog-shops, like noxious weeds, always flourish.

The court was apparently much deserted at that hour, for the men had not
yet returned from their work--whatever that might be--and most of the
women were within doors.

"This is the house," continued Giles, descending the few steps, and
tapping at the door; "I have been here before. They know me."

The door was opened by Hetty, and for the first time since entering
those regions of poverty and crime, little Di felt a slight rise in her
spirits, for through Hetty's face shone the bright spirit within; albeit
the shining was through some dirt and dishevelment, good principle not
being able altogether to overcome the depressing influences of extreme
poverty and suffering.

"Is your mother at home, Hetty!"

"Oh! yes, sir. Mother, here's Mr Scott. Come in, sir. We are so glad
to see you, and--"

She stopped, and gazed inquiringly at the visitors who followed.

"I've brought some friends of Bobby to inquire for him. Sir Richard
Brandon--Mrs Frog."

Number 666 stood aside, and, with something like a smile on his face,
ceremoniously presented Wealth to Poverty.

Wealth made a slightly confused bow to Poverty, and Poverty, looking
askance at Wealth, dropt a mild courtesy.

"Vell now, I'm a Dutchman if it ain't the hangel!" exclaimed a voice in
the corner of the small room, before either Wealth or Poverty could
utter a word.

"Oh! it's _my_ boy," exclaimed Di with delight, forgetting or ignoring
the poverty, dirt, and extremely bad air, as she ran forward and took
hold of Bobby's hand.

It was a pre-eminently dirty hand, and formed a remarkable contrast to
the little hands that grasped it!

The small street boy was, for the first time in his life, bereft of
speech! When that faculty returned, he remarked in language which was
obscure to Di:--

"Vell, if this ain't a go!"

"What is a go?" asked Di with innocent surprise. Instead of answering,
Bobby Frog burst into a fit of laughter, but stopped rather suddenly
with an expression of pain.

"Oh! 'old on! I say. This won't do. Doctor 'e said I musn't larf,
'cause it shakes the leg too much. But, you know, wot's a cove to do
ven a hangel comes to him and axes sitch rum questions?"

Again he laughed, and again stopped short in pain.

"I'm _so_ sorry! Does it