cabbies call him God's baby," she whispered. "He's not right in the
head, you know. A tile loose."

Still Diamond, though he heard every word, and understood it too, kept
on smiling. What could it matter what people called him, so long as he
did nothing he ought not to do? And, besides, God's baby was surely the
best of names!

"Well, my little man, and what can you do?" asked the gentleman, turning
towards him--just for the sake of saying something.

"Drive a cab," said Diamond.

"Good; and what else?" he continued; for, accepting what the girl had
said, he regarded the still sweetness of Diamond's face as a sign of
silliness, and wished to be kind to the poor little fellow.

"Nurse a baby," said Diamond.

"Well--and what else?"

"Clean father's boots, and make him a bit of toast for his tea."

"You're a useful little man," said the gentleman. "What else can you
do?"

"Not much that I know of," said Diamond. "I can't curry a horse, except
somebody puts me on his back. So I don't count that."

"Can you read?"

"No. But mother can and father can, and they're going to teach me some
day soon."

"Well, here's a penny for you."

"Thank you, sir."

"And when you have learned to read, come to me, and I'll give you
sixpence and a book with fine pictures in it."

"Please, sir, where am I to come?" asked Diamond, who was too much a
man of the world not to know that he must have the gentleman's address
before he could go and see him.

"You're no such silly!" thought he, as he put his hand in his pocket,
and brought out a card. "There," he said, "your father will be able to
read that, and tell you where to go."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," said Diamond, and put the card in his
pocket.

The gentleman walked away, but turning round a few paces off, saw
Diamond give his penny to the girl, and, walking slower heard him say:

"I've got a father, and mother, and little brother, and you've got
nothing but a wicked old grannie. You may have my penny."

The girl put it beside the other in her pocket, the only trustworthy
article of dress she wore. Her grandmother always took care that she had
a stout pocket.

"Is she as cruel as ever?" asked Diamond.

"Much the same. But I gets more coppers now than I used to, and I can
get summats to eat, and take browns enough home besides to keep her from
grumbling. It's a good thing she's so blind, though."

"Why?" asked Diamond.

"'Cause if she was as sharp in the eyes