all treated me as a plaything,' she once said to me, 'and
poor as they were, they would bring me toys and sweets. I think, nay, I
am sure, that they were careful of their talk before me, but it was a
strange life for a child. Very often I could not see their faces for
the cloud of tobacco smoke, and sometimes the atmosphere was so
stifling that I preferred to sit outside on the cold dark landing.'"

"Poor mite, what a life!"

"Amias told me once that he should never forget the first time he saw
her. He was a mere lad himself of sixteen or seventeen, and a student
in a life academy."

"Some errand had brought him to Westbrook's lodgings. It was a dull,
cold January afternoon, and though it was only three o'clock, he said
the light was so dim that he nearly stumbled over the child. She was
sitting huddled up in the doorway of the studio, with an old red shawl
over her head to protect her against the draughts, and a tiny black
kitten was mewing piteously in her arms."

"'Kitty's crying for her mother pussy,' she said, looking at him
without the least shyness, 'but I want her to keep me company out here.
It is not kind of her to cry.'"

"'But it is too cold for you and Kitty too,' observed Amias; 'you had
better come in with me.' But the child shook her head."

"'No, I durst not,' she whispered; 'daddy's drunk, and he is flinging
things about so hard that Kitty and me might get hurt; so I am making
believe we are the Prince and Princess in the enchanted forest. Will
you stop and play with me?' and actually Amias--he was always a good
fellow--squatted on the ground beside her and entered into the game.
From that day they were the best of friends, and he was Verity's
favourite playmate. On Sunday afternoons he took her out to feed the
ducks in St. James's Park, or to watch the boys sail their boats on the
pond in Kensington Gardens. He was only a poor art student, but he
would forego a meal cheerfully to provide some little treat for his
protegee. As the days grew darker with trouble, and Westbrook grew more
hopeless and degraded in his habits, the neglected child turned to
Amias for help and sympathy. There were terrible scenes towards the
last, but I will spare you the fearful details; it was a miracle how
any girl of fifteen could endure what Verity had to bear. For some
months Westbrook's friends were fully aware that he was hardly
accountable for his actions, and there was an attempt made to shut him
up in an asy