ld's eyes
fixed half curiously, half pityingly upon him.

"Say--gov'nor, I ain't going to read no more books; do ye hear?"

There was something quite pathetic in the tones in which this
declaration of renunciation was made. It was evidently a supreme effort
of repentance, and Reginald felt almost uncomfortable as he heard it.

"That there _Noogate Calendar_ made a rare flare-up, didn't it,
gov'nor?" continued Love, looking wistfully towards the grate, if
perchance any stray leaves should have escaped the conflagration.

"Not such a flare-up as you did," said Reginald, laughing. "Never mind,
we'll try and get something nicer to read."

"No fear! Never no more. I ain't a-goin' to read nothink again, I tell
yer," said the boy, quite warmly.

And for fear of wavering in his resolution he went round the room once
more, rubbing up the cheap furniture till it shone, and ending with
polishing up the very hearth that had served as the sacrificial altar to
his beloved _Newgate Calendar_ only a few days before. There was little
or no more work to be done during the day. A few letters had come by
the morning's post, angrily complaining of the delay in delivering the
promised goods. To these Reginald had replied in the usual form,
leaving to Love the privilege of "licking them up." He also wrote to
Mr Medlock, enclosing the two pounds the pleasant clergyman had left
the day before, and once more urging that gentleman to come down to
Liverpool.

He went out, happily unconscious of the fact that a detective dogged
every step he took, to post these letters himself, and at the same time
to lay in a day's provisions for two. It was with something like a
qualm that he saw his last half-sovereign broken over this purchase.
With nine shillings left in his pocket, and twelve days yet to
Christmas, it was as clear as daylight that things were rapidly
approaching a crisis. It was almost a relief to feel it.

On his way back to the office he passed a secondhand book-stall. He had
lingered in front of it many times before now, turning over the leaves
of this and that odd volume, and picking up the scraps of amusement and
information which are always to be found in such an occupation. To-day,
however, he overhauled the contents of the trays with rather more
curiosity than usual; not because he expected to find a pearl of great
price among the dust and dog's ears of the "threepenny" tray. Reginald
was the last person in the w