of the law.  So, they sat down and ate, and the boy and girl tried to say intelligible things to one another, and laughed.  Emilia could not help joining in their laughter.  The girl was very anxious to know whether the boy was ever beaten, and hearing that he was, she appeared better satisfied, remarking that she was also, but curious still as to the different forms of chastisement they received.  This being partially explained, she wished to know whether he would be beaten that night, Emilia interpreting.  A grin, and a rapid whistle and ‘cluck,’ significant of the application of whips, told the state of his expectations; at which the girl clapped her hands, adding, lamentably, “So shall I, ’cause I am always.”  Emilia gathered them under each shoulder, when, to her delight and half perplexity, they closed their eyes, leaning against her.

The policeman passed, and for an hour endured this spectacle.  At last he felt compelled to explain to Emilia what were the sentiments of gentlefolks with regard to their doorsteps, apart from the law of the matter.  He put it to her human nature whether she would like her doorsteps to be blocked, so that no one could enter, and anyone emerging stood a chance of being precipitated, nose foremost, upon the pavement.  Then, again, as gentle-folks had good experience of, the young ones in London were twice as cunning as the old.  Emilia pleaded for her sleeping pair, that they might not be disturbed.  Her voice gave the keeper of the peace notions of her being one of the eccentric young ladies who are occasionally ‘missing,’ and have advertizing friends.  He uttered a stern ahem! preliminary to assent; but the noise wakened the children, who stared, and readily obeyed his gesture, which said, “Be off!” while his words were those of remonstrance.  Emilia accompanied them a little way.  Both promised eagerly that they would be at the same place the night following and departed—­the boy with laughing nods and waving of hands, which the girl imitated.  Emilia’s feeling of security went with them.  She at once feigned a destination in the distance, and set forward to reach it, but the continued exposure of this delusion made it difficult to renew.  She fell to counting the hours that were to elapse before she would meet those children, saying to herself, that whatever she did she must keep her engagement to be at the appointed steps.  This restriction set her darkly fancying that she wished for her end.

Remembering those men who had looked at her admiringly, “Am I worth looking at?” she said; and it gave her some pleasure to think that she had it still in her power to destroy a thing of value.  She was savagely ashamed of going to death empty-handed.  By-and-by, great fatigue stiffened her limbs, and she sat down from pure want of rest.  The luxury of rest and soothing languor kept hard thoughts away.  She felt as if floating, for a space.  The fear of the streets left her.  But when necessity for