did. As a bird-fancier he contributed little, almost nothing, to the

general fund on which this family subsisted. He was a huge, powerful fellow, and had various methods of obtaining money--some obvious and others mysterious--but nearly all his earnings went to the gin-palace, for Ned was a man of might, and could stand an enormous quantity of drink. Hetty, who worked, perhaps we should say slaved, for a firm which paid her one shilling a week, could not manage to find food for them all. Mrs Frog herself with her infant to care for, had found it hard work at any time to earn a few pence, and now Bobby's active little limbs were reduced to inaction, converting him into a consumer instead of a producer. In short, the glaring fact that the family expenses would be increased while the family income was diminished, stared Mrs Frog as blankly in the face as she stared at the dirty blank wall.

And her case was worse, even, than people in better circumstances might imagine, for the family lived so literally from hand to mouth that there was no time even to think when a difficulty arose or disaster befell. They rented their room from a man who styled it a furnished apartment, in virtue of a rickety table, a broken chair, a worn-out sheet or two, a dilapidated counterpane, four ragged blankets, and the infirm saucepan before mentioned, besides a few articles of cracked or broken crockery. For this accommodation the landlord charged ninepence per day, which sum had to be paid _every night_ before the family was allowed to retire to rest! In the event of failure to pay they would have been turned out into the street at once, and the door padlocked. Thus the necessity for a constant, though small, supply of cash became urgent, and the consequent instability of "home" very depressing.

To preserve his goods from the pawnbroker, and prevent a moonlight flitting, this landlord had printed on his sheets the words "stolen from ---" and on the blankets and counterpane were stamped the words "stop thief!"

Mrs Frog made no reply to her husband's gruff question, which induced the man to seize an empty bottle, as being the best way of rousing her attention.

"Come, you let mother alone, dad," suggested Bobby, "she ain't a-aggrawatin' of you just now."

"Why, mother," exclaimed Hetty, who was so busy with Bobby's supper, and, withal, so accustomed to the woman's looks of hopeless misery that she had failed to observe anything unusual until her attention was thus called to her, "what ever have you done with the baby?"

"Ah--you may well ask that," growled Ned.

Even the boy seemed to forget his pain for a moment as he now observed, anxiously, that his mother had not the usual bundle on her breast.

"The baby's gone!" she said, bitterly, still keeping her eyes on the blank wall.

"Gone!--how?--lost? killed? speak, mother," burst from Hetty and the boy.

"No, only gone to where it will be better cared for than here."

"Come, explain, old woman," said Ned, again laying his hand on the bottle.

As Hetty went and took her hand gently, Mrs Frog condescended to explain, but absolutely refused to tell to whose care the baby had been consigned.

"Well--it ain't a bad riddance, after all," said the man, as he rose, and, staggering into a corner where another bundle of straw was spread on the floor, flung himself down. Appropriately drawing two of the "stop thief" blankets over him, he went to sleep.

Then Mrs Frog, feeling comparatively sure of quiet for the remainder of the night, drew her stool close to the side of her son, and held such intercourse with him as she seldom had the chance of holding while Bobby was in a state of full health and bodily vigour. Hetty, meanwhile, ministered to them both, for she was one of those dusty diamonds of what may be styled the East-end diggings of London--not so rare, perhaps, as many people may suppose--whose lustre is dimmed and intrinsic value somewhat concealed by the neglect and the moral as well as physical filth by which they are surrounded.

"Of course you've paid the ninepence, Hetty?"

"Yes, mother."

"You might 'ave guessed that," said Bobby, "for, if she 'adn't we shouldn't 'ave bin here."

"That and the firing and candle, with what the doctor ordered, has used up all I had earned, even though I did some extra work and was paid for it," said Hetty with a sigh. "But I don't grudge it, Bobby--I'm only sorry because there's nothing more coming to me till next week."

"Meanwhile there is nothing for _this_ week," said Mrs Frog with a return of the despair, as she looked at her prostrate son, "for all I can manage to earn will barely make up the rent--if it does even that-- and father, you know, drinks nearly all he makes. God help us!"

"God _will_ help us," said Hetty, sitting down on the floor and gently stroking the back of her mother's hand, "for He sent the trouble, and will hear us when we cry to Him."

"Pray to Him, then, Hetty, for it's no use askin' me to join you. I can't pray. An' don't let your father hear, else he'll be wild."

The poor girl bent her head on her knees as she sat, and prayed silently. Her mother and brother, neither of whom had any faith in prayer, remained silent, while her father, breathing stertorously in the corner, slept the sleep of the drunkard.