now,' he answered.

We were somewhere near Leather Lane about one o'clock. Suddenly we came
upon two tiny children standing on the pavement, one on each side of
the door of a public-house. They could not have been more than two and
three. They were sobbing a little--not much. The tiny creatures stood
there awfully awake in sleeping London, while even their own playmates
were far off in the fairyland of dreams.

'This is the kind of thing,' I said, 'that makes me doubt whether there
be a God in heaven.'

'That is only because he is down here,' answered Falconer, 'taking such
good care of us all that you can't see him. There is not a gin-palace,
or yet lower hell in London, in which a man or woman can be out of God.
The whole being love, there is nothing for you to set it against and
judge it by. So you are driven to fancies.'

The house was closed, but there was light above the door. We went up
to the children, and spoke to them, but all we could make out was
that mammie was in there. One of them could not speak at all. Falconer
knocked at the door. A good-natured-looking Irishwoman opened it a
little way and peeped out.

'Here are two children crying at your door, ma'am,' said Falconer.

'Och, the darlin's! they want their mother.'

'Do you know her, then?'

'True for you, and I do. She's a mighty dacent woman in her way when the
drink's out uv her, and very kind to the childher; but oncet she smells
the dhrop o' gin, her head's gone intirely. The purty craytures have
waked up, an' she not come home, and they've run out to look after her.'

Falconer stood a moment as if thinking what would be best. The shriek of
a woman rang through the night.

'There she is!' said the Irishwoman. 'For God's sake don't let her get
a hould o' the darlints. She's ravin' mad. I seen her try to kill them
oncet.'

The shrieks came nearer and nearer, and after a few moments the woman
appeared in the moonlight, tossing her arms over her head, and screaming
with a despair for which she yet sought a defiant expression. Her head
was uncovered, and her hair flying in tangles; her sleeves were torn,
and her gaunt arms looked awful in the moonlight. She stood in the
middle of the street, crying again and again, with shrill laughter
between, 'Nobody cares for me, and I care for nobody! Ha! ha! ha!'

'Mammie! mammie!' cried the elder of the children, and ran towards her.

The woman heard, and rushed like a fury towards the child. Falco