his sitting upright in its interior, and just long enough to
allow his small person to lie at full length without either extremity
protruding; and further, as the rain was just beginning to come down, I
could not forbear, even in the midst of my misery, admiring his
selection of a lodging.

Greatly to my relief, the "soldier," the crust, and the pipe were all
three presently summoned from the pocket, and with the help of the first
two and the consolation of the last, Master Walker contrived to make an
evening meal which at least afforded _him_ satisfaction.

Before making himself snug for the night he pulled me out, and by the
aid of the feeble light of a neighbouring lamp-post, made a hasty
examination of my exterior and interior. Having apparently satisfied
himself as to my value, he put me and the pipe back into his dreadful
pocket, from which, even yet, the fumes of the "soldier" had not faded,
and then curled himself up like a dormouse and composed himself to
slumber.

He had not, however, settled himself many moments before another ragged
figure came crawling down the inside of the pipes towards him. Stumpy
started up at the first sound in a scared sort of way, but instantly
resumed his composure on seeing who the intruder was.

"What cheer, Stumpy?" said the latter.

"What cheer, Tuppeny?" replied my master. "Where've yer been to?"

"Lunnon Bridge," replied Mr Tuppeny.

"An' what 'ave yer got?" asked Stumpy.

"Only a rag," said the other, in evident disgusts producing a white
handkerchief.

"That ain't much; I've boned a turnip."

"Jus' your luck. Let's 'ave a look at him."

Stumpy complied, and his comrade, lighting a match, surveyed me with
evident complacency.

"Jus' your luck," said he again. "Where did yer git 'im?"

"At the gaff, off a young cove as was reg'lar screwed up. I could 'ave
took 'is nose off if I'd a wanted it, and he wouldn't have knowed."

"Then this 'ere rag might 'a been some use," replied the disconsolate
Tuppeny. "'Tain't worth three'a'pence."

"Any marks?" inquired my master.

"Yees; there is so. C.N. it is; hup in one corner. He was sticking out
of the pocket of a young chap as was going along with a face as long as
a fooneral, and as miserable-lookin' as if 'e'd swallowed a cat."

C.N.! Could this handkerchief possibly have belonged to poor Charlie
Newcome? His way home from Grime Street I knew would lead by London
Bridge, and with the trouble of that aft