Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. It was below consciousness, elusive; so he sent out a call to his friend, defensively. He drew compellingly upon his new characters to keep him out of this melancholy channel; but they ebbed and ebbed; he could not hold them. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. In this attempt he was, however, foiled by the agility of the carpenter, who managed to retreat to the door, against which he placed his back, kicking the boards vigorously with his heel. It slipped out—as did that “she”. "What is she saying to me?" Ah Cum shrugged. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. ’ The dagger was in her hand. Her eye met Miss Stanley’s understandingly, and she was if anything a trifle more affectionate in her greeting to Ann Veronica. And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature. .
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