square for a baker's shop in which to spend her fortune. For she had got a fortune after all, though she had not yet thought fit to disclose the fact to Tim. It consisted of threepence, and was no doubt still the property by rights of Mrs. Davy, who had entrusted her with it that morning to do a commission for her, which commission, it is needless to say, her subsequent disclosure to the child had prevented from ever being accomplished,

But Maggie never thought of it in that light. The money had belonged to the woman, it is true, but it was in her possession now, and she wanted it, and she made no scruple about using it. Why should she? No one had ever told her that it was wrong to take away from another, and her own vague and shifting idea of morality certainly did not condemn such stealing as this.

Tim's mouth opened wide as he saw Maggie making straight for a shop at the corner of the street, on which his eyes had been longingly fixed for some seconds, and when she entered and produced her coin, he fairly stood or his head with delight on the pavement outside.

But Maggie was unusually grave, almost stern, as, without speaking to him or reciprocating his advances, she led the way to a quiet street where they might find a convenient doorstep on which to eat their meal. The first excitement of their flight was over, and the dread of encountering either her step-father or any one of her former acquaintances who would force her to return to him was dispelled for the moment by the character of the locality in which they found themselves; but now the responsibility she had undertaken of providing for herself and the baby, to say nothing of Tim, presented itself to her for the first time in all its weightiness, when she realized that their last certain means of subsistence was gone.

Silently she sat down on the first step they came to. Breaking up the loaf she gave a share to Tim, and setting the baby upon her lap began to insert tiny morsels of crumb between its lips. It was a sad-looking object, this child, with its big round eyes, its wasted cheeks and scanty hair, and the tiny fingers that clutched uneasily and twisted themselves round Maggie's hand, but it was

very dear to her for all that. Tenderly she administered to its wants, talking to it the while, and looking at it now and again with tears in her eyes, and almost a mother's depth of tenderness in them too; hugging it close to her breast when it had eaten, and arranging the shawl so as to protect the little form from the biting wind that found its way round the corner of the street to them. Speedily she then demolished her own share of the bread, and leaning her head against the area railings, closed her eyes. Tim watched her for a minute or two, and then, apparently finding such a state of things somewhat slow, rose up from the step; and picking up a half-eaten crust that had fallen from the girl's hand, slipped it into his own pocket and strolled towards the end of the street.

I'd

Maggie continued for some time longer in her position, but at length roused herself with a start. She had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion, but it was not such sleep as brings refreshment to a weary frame. She had been sobbing uneasily for some moments before she awoke, and the tears still stood in her eyes as she murmured: "Oh, mother, mother, why didn't ye take me with you?" and then; Couldn't ye come and fetch me, mother? come directly, me an' Pat, and- -"and then she looked up and around for Tim, and became aware that he was gone. Hastily rising, and perceiving no trace of him anywhere, she set off in what seemed to her the most likely direction, where the street branched off into another and more thickly populated one. A little way down, a man was holding a Punch and Judy show, and there, among the crowd of boys that surrounded him, Maggie recognized. Tim's square figure. Maggie had never seen a show of this kind before, for the proprietors of such things were not likely to perform in the places she had hitherto lived in. In another moment she too formed part of an eager circle round the littles tand.

The pantomine had begun when she arrived, and Punch was just holding intimate confabulation with the policeman. The roars of laughter that greeted the discomfiture of this latter personage were infectious, and by the time Punch had jammed the hangman up against the door, and

finally hanged him in his own noose, Maggie was laughing as heartily as anyone, whilst a feeble crow from beneath the shawl testified even to little Pat's satisfaction at the general merriment. "It was fust class," she said to herself, "really jolly; " but it all ended much too quickly. The hero was carried off to the lower regions, the curtain dropped, and the booth walked off to some other place of entertainment on the shoulders of its owner. The little crowd dispersed, and our three children found themselves once more face to face.

"Tim," said Maggie, the tears gone from her eyes now, for her enjoyment of the fun had caused a reaction in the elastic little heart, and hope once more was in the ascendant-" Tim, I'll tell you what; you and I'll get out of this!"

"Get out of what?" he responded, almost ruefully, still looking down the street after the fast-disappearing Punch and Judy man.

"Why, out of this place," she repeated impatiently. "We'll go right away somewhere, where there's blue sky and big green trees, all green, and flowers and things. There is a place like that somewheres, and perhaps if we got there we might find mother. She was goin'

there."

Is there Punch and Judy there ?" asked Tim, craning his neck so as to get a last glimpse.

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'No,-yes,—perhaps," hesitated Maggie; "anyway, it's better there nor here. Come along!" and she led the way, looking back for her companion to follow.

Tim followed, though not very willingly. Perhaps he was beginning to consider Maggie's dictatorship a bit irksome, but he said nothing, and they resumed their tramp; not with the dogged determination of the morning, nor yet the weary languor of the few previous hours, but with a lightness of step in keeping with the boundings of Maggie's heart.

She had made her plans now. She and her baby and Tim would go right away, away somewhere, where no cruel people would ever find them any more, but where they should see her mother, or at any rate, be nearer to her.

No misgivings crowded her mind as to the possibility of her attaining her end. She was certain that if she went straight on, she must arrive at the haven at last; and the hunger, and weariness, and loneliness of the moment were all forgotten in the bright visions of the future.

But Tim was not so hopeful, and when Maggie confided her plans to him, he only whistled, and looked hard at the pavement. He did not understand Maggie's dreams and aspirations: his own particular province was the London streets. He had never known any other life, nor had the thought of any other possible existence even occurred to him; small wonder then that Maggie's overtures met with but scanty response from his stolid nature. Still his faith in his guide was as yet unshaken. The idea of separation from her had not so much as presented itself to him, and he followed without a protest.

After more walking they reached at last the entrance to Hyde Park, just as the sun was setting. The trees were bare and leafless still, but they wore that indescribable shimmer of green that accompanies the first breaking of the buds, a token of the life that lies hidden within, a vague promise of the glory that is to be. The crocuses were beginning to show their bright faces from the brown surface of the beds, hyacinth and tulip leaves gave promise of scented beauty hereafter. Even the grass was looking greener than it had done. The fog had quite cleared off but there was a haze over the whole scene, a golden haze withal, as though the sun was determined to vindicate his rights, and having been ousted from his place in the noon day, was making up for it by overcoming King Fog in his own special domain.

It was one of those sunsets peculiar to London, when the western sky is a mass of lurid flame, investing with a sullen glory even the banks of clouds that strive to mar its beauty, a sunset almost appalling in its weird splendour.

Silently the children stood and gazed on the scene before them, astonishment and delight thrilling through every pulse of Maggie's being. The sun had never set for her before, save behind rows of chimney pots. Tim was not

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so easily impressed, his attention was chiefly directed to a group of children playing with a dog. Maggie was the first to speak. think we must be very near now. the green grass."

Tim," she said, "I See yonder the trees and

But Tim shook his head. "I knowed this long ago," he returned, "it's only the Park, and sometimes it's much beautifuller than this."

"Have you been in here afore?" asked Maggie, gazing at the boy in wondering admiration.

Tim nodded, and felt himself almost a hero.

"Where does it go to ?" asked Maggie again, and her eyes wandered over the broad expanse of turf, to where the great trees lifted their heads against the glowing sky. "Is it beautifuller still over there? Shall we come to the mountains and the fields if we go on ?"

Tim was puzzled. To tell the truth, he had never had the chance of exploring the beauties of Kensington Gardens with his old master, but he did not choose to lose the prestige he had acquired in Maggie's eyes, so he merely said, "Yes, I suppose so."

"Then let's go," said the girl.

Many people were crossing and recrossing the Park that evening. Men of business returning from their day's employment, men of pleasure lounging along beneath the trees, artists possibly, poets may be-and the same scene was spread before every one of them as before Maggie. Yet perhaps to no one of them did the loveliness of that evening convey so much meaning as to the child with the wistful, grey eyes, who, entering the oasis of our crowded London desert for the first time, followed its winding paths in the hope that they would lead to the realization of her life's dream.

But how many of us have built our hopes on a foundation no whit more stable than a sunset, and how many have had to endure the same bitter disappointment that Maggie experienced! In a few moments the glory had faded out of the heavens, the sky resumed its ordinary leaden hue, and the air grew chill and cold once more. People wrapped their cloaks tighter about them, and quickened