other, and there was a sense of security and comfort in that which
before these last few weeks they had never dreamed of.

They were about to turn out of Oxford Street on their homeward journey
when a loud shout close by arrested their attention. Looking round,
they saw a boy with disordered dress and unsteady gait attempting to
cross the road just as a hansom cab was bearing down at full speed on
the place where he stood. They only saw his back, but it was evident he
was either ill or dazed, for he stood stupidly where he was, with the
peril in full-view, but somehow helpless to avoid it. The cabman
shouted and pulled at his horse's head. But to the horrified onlookers
it was only too clear that nothing could stop his career in time. He
was already within a yard or two of the luckless boy when Reginald made
a sudden dash into the road, charging at him with a violence that sent
him staggering forward two paces and then brought him to the earth.
Reginald fell too, on the top of him, and as the cab dashed past it just
grazed the sole of his boot where he lay.

It was all the work of a moment--the shout, the vision of the boy, and
the rescue--so sudden, indeed, that Mrs Cruden had barely time to
clutch Horace by the arm before Reginald lay prone in the middle of the
road. In another moment Horace was beside his brother, helping him up
out of the mud.

"Are you hurt, old man?"

"Not a bit," said Reginald, very pale and breathless, but rising to his
feet without help. "Look out--there's a crowd--take mother home, and
I'll come on as soon as I've seen this fellow safe. I'm not damaged a
bit."

With this assurance Horace darted back to his mother in time to
extricate her from the crowd which, whatever happens, is sure to collect
in the streets of London at a minute's warning.

"He's all right," said Horace--"not hurt a bit. Come on, mother, out of
this; he'll probably catch us up before we're home. I say," said he,
and his voice trembled with excitement and brotherly pride as he spoke,
"wasn't it splendid?"

Mrs Cruden would fain have stayed near, but the crowd made it
impossible to be of any use. So she let Horace lead her home,
trembling, but with a heart full of thankfulness and pride and love for
her young hero.

Reginald, meanwhile, with the coolness of an old football captain,
proceeded to pick up his man, and appealed to the crowd to stand back
and give the fellow room.

The boy lay half-stunned w