k coat, as if he
had come fresh out of Noah's ark. He didn't care about it so much
while they were on the turf in the out-of-the-way parts, and
would meet nobody but guards, and nurse-maids, and trades-people,
and mechanics out for an evening's stroll. But the Drive and
Rotten Row lay before them, and must be crossed. It was just the
most crowded time of the day. He had almost made up his mind once
or twice to stop Grey and the procession, and propose to sit down
for half-an-hour or so and let the children play, by which time
the world would be going home to dinner. But there was no play
left in the children; and he had resisted the temptation,
meaning, when they came to the most crowded part, to look
unconscious, as if it were by chance that he had got into such
company, and had in fact nothing to do with them. But now, if he
listened to the child's plea, and carried her, all hope of
concealment was over. If he did not, he felt that there would be
no greater flunkey in the Park that evening than Thomas Brown,
the enlightened radical and philosopher, amongst the young
gentlemen riders in Rotten Row, or the powdered footmen lounging
behind the great blaring carriages in the Drive.

So he looked down at the child once or twice in a state of
puzzle. A third time she looked up with her great eyes, and said,
"Oh, please carry me a bit!" and her piteous, tired face turned
the scale. "If she were Lady Mary or Lady Blanche," thought he,
"I should pick her up at once, and be proud of the burden. Here
goes!" And he took her up in his arms, and walked on, desperate
and reckless.

Notwithstanding all his philosophy, he felt his ears tingling and
his face getting red, as they approached the drive. It was
crowded. They were kept standing a minute or two at the crossing.
He made a desperate effort to abstract himself wholly from the
visible world, and retire in a state of serene contemplation. But
it would not do; and he was painfully conscious of the stare of
lack-lustre eyes of well dressed men leaning over the rails, and
the amused look of delicate ladies, lounging in open carriages,
and surveying him and Grey and their ragged rout through glasses.

At last they scrambled across, and he breathed freely for a
minute, as they struggled along the comparatively quiet path
leading to Albert Gate, and stopped to drink at the fountain.
Then came Rotten Row, and another pause amongst the loungers, and
a plunge into the Ride, where he