"Ah, you wicked ungrateful little serpent! They've been setting you again' your poor suffering mother."

"Stow that, I say. You'll have the doctor hear you if you don't be quiet."

"I won't be quiet, you wicked, wicked--"

"Look here! If you don't hold your row, I won't give you the bob and two coppers I've got for you."

"Have you got some money for your poor mother, then?"

"I've got a bob a gent give me, and twopence, my half of what we got for the bones me and 'Lisbeth sold."

"Ah? I'm a poor suffering woman, and I do say things sometimes as I don't mean," whined the wretched creature. "Give me the money, dear, and let me go."

"If I give it to yer, you won't say no more about my coming away?"

"No, dear; I only want to see you happy."

"Well, there, then," he said, giving her the coins; "and, I say--"

"Yes, my precious."

"You ain't to spend none of it in gin."

"Gin? Oh, no, my dear."

"Get some pudding out of Holborn, and a saveloy; and, I say, mother, get yourself a bit o' tea."

"Yes, my darling."

"And don't let Mrs Billson gammon you into lending her none of it."

"No, my dear. And there, good-bye, Bob; be a good boy. I won't come wherriting of you no more'n I can help."

The miserable object, from whom out of compassion Richmond Chartley had rescued the boy, shuffled along the street to the nearest public-house, to buy more plus spirit with which to attack her miserable minus spirit, with the result that, as a mathematical problem, one would kill the other as sure as Fate.

Meanwhile Bob stood on the step watching her.

"Wonder whether the old gal does like me? Somehow she allus goes as soon as she gets all a chap's got. Now she'll go and have a drop. She allus does when she says she won't."

"Bob! you Bob!" came in a shrill voice from the kitchen stairs.

"Can't you see I'm a-coming?" cried the boy; and hurriedly closing the door, he returned to his work.

CHAPTER FOUR.

PUBLIC OPINION ON CURRENT EVENTS.

These was a desperate scuffle going on round the corner as Hendon Chartley came by one day, and he would have passed on without seeing it, only that his English blood was stirred at the way in which the odds were all on one side--four boys being engaged in pummelling one who, in spite of the thrashing he was getting, fought on boldly, till, with a couple of sharp cuts of his cane, Hendon settled two of the combatants, when the other two ran away.

"Thankye, sir."

"You young dog, is it you?" cried Hendon.

"Yes, sir; and I should ha' licked all on 'em if you hadn't come."

"Why, you ungrateful young rascal, be off back and wash your face. Look here: I'll have you turned away."

"No, sir; please, sir, don't, sir. I couldn't help it, sir, I was obliged to fight, sir; I was indeed, sir. Oh, don't, sir; you hurts!"

Hendon listened to no remonstrance, but catching the boy by the collar he thrust him back till he reached the door, which he opened with his latch-key, and, bundling the boy in, sent him staggering along the hall as he closed the door, and went on once more.

"Yah! who cares for you?" cried the boy angrily; and then his countenance changed, and he broke into a smile as he found himself face to face with Rich.

"Why, Bob," she exclaimed, "what is the matter?"

"I couldn't help it, Miss. Mr Hendon shoved me in like that. I meant to come in by the area."

"But why did he bring you back like that? Did he know where you had been?"

"Oh, no, Miss! I never tells anybody where I'm going with a note for you; not even Mr Poynter, Miss. Here's the letter; and Miss Heath said I was to give her love to you, and she hadn't been because she was so busy."

Bob drew a letter from his pocket, and as he did so made upon it an ugly mark.

"Why, Bob, your hand's bleeding!"

"Is it, Miss? Oh, ah! so it is. That ain't nothink."

"You are all over mud, too. Have you met with an accident again?"

The boy's lips parted to say "_Yes_," but as he gazed up into the clear searching eyes which looked down so kindly into his, he shook his head.

"No, Miss," he said boldly.

"Why, Bob, you have not been fighting?"

"I didn't want to fight, Miss; but what's a chap to do?"

"Surely not fight when he is sent on an errand," said Rich severely.

"I didn't want to fight," said the boy again: "but I was fighting, and Mr Hendon ketched me."

"I'm afraid, Bob, I shall be obliged to speak to my father, and have you sent away."

"No, no! don't do that, Miss; please don't. I will be so very useful, and I will do everythink 'Lisbeth tells me. Don't send a feller away."

"We cannot keep a boy who behaves so badly," continued Rich, who was trying to hide being amused and pleased at the boy's affectionate earnestness.