to the future. 'I wouldn't call the Queen my aunt.'
"Our reporter did not ask why, Sophy's tone convincing him that the observation was intended to express a state of infinite content, and had no reference whatever to Mrs. Middlemore.
"'Now, Sophy,' he said, 'are you ready to tell me all you know?'
"'I'll tell yer a lot,' said Sophy, and if you ain't sapparized-well, there!'
"Another colloquialism, which our reporter perfectly understood.
"'What will your aunt say?' he asked-they had left the shop, and were walking side by side-'to your coming home late?'
"'Wot she likes,' replied Sophy, with a disdainful disregard of consequences. 'If she don't like it she may lump it. Don't frighten yerself; she's used to it by this time. Where are you going to take me?'
"Our reporter had settled this in his mind. 'To my rooms, where we can talk without interruption.'
"'Oh, but I say,' exclaimed Sophy, 'won't they stare!'
"'There will be no one to do that, Sophy, and you will be quite safe.'
"Sophy nodded, and kept step with him as well as she could. It was not easy, by reason of her boots being odd, and not only too large for her feet, but in a woful state of dilapidation. In one of the narrow streets through which they passed, a second-hand clothing shop was open, in the window of which were displayed some half-dozen pairs of children's boots. A good idea occurred to him.
"'Your boots are worn out, Sophy.'
"'There's 'ardly any sole to 'em,' remarked Sophy.
"'Would a pair of those fit you?'
"'Oh, come along. I don't want to be made game of.'
"'I am not doing so, Sophy,' said our reporter, slipping three half-crowns into her hand. 'Go in, and buy the nicest pair you can; and mind they fit you properly.'
"Sophy raised her eyes to his face, and our reporter observed, without making any remark thereon, that they were quite pretty eyes, large, and of a beautiful shade of brown, and now with a soft light in them. She went into the shop silently, and returned, radiant and grateful, shod as a human being ought to be.
"'Do yer like 'em?' she asked, putting one foot on the ledge of the shop window.
"'They look very nice,' he said. 'I hope they're a good fit?'
"'They're proper. 'Ere's yer change, and I'm ever so much obliged to yer.'
"The words were commonplace, but her voice was not. There was in it a note of tearful gratefulness which was abundant payment for an act of simple kindness. Utilitarians and political economists may smile at our statement that we owe the poor a great deal, and that but for them we should not enjoy some of the sweetest emotions by which the human heart can be stirred."
CHAPTER XIV.
SOPHY IMPARTS STRANGE NEWS TO THE REPORTER OF THE "EVENING MOON."
"The chambers occupied by our reporter are situated at the extreme river end of one of the streets leading from the Strand to the Embankment. They are at the top of the house, on the third floor, and a capacious bow-window in his sitting-room affords a good view of the river and the Embankment gardens. He describes his chambers as an ideal residence, and declares he would not exchange it for a palace. In daytime the view from his bow-window is varied and animated, in night-time the lights and shadows on the Thames are replete with suggestion. From this window he has drawn the inspiration for many admirable articles which have appeared in our columns, in which his play of fancy illumines his depiction of a busy city's life.
"He let himself in with his latch-key, and Sophy followed close on his heels up the silent stairs. On the third floor another latch-key admitted them to the privacy of his chambers.
"'It will be dark for a moment, Sophy,' he said; 'you are not frightened, I hope?'
"'Not a bit,' replied Sophy.
"It may not be unworthy of remark that she never again addressed him as 'old 'un, which he ascribed to the little incident of the purchase of the pair of boots. It had raised him to an altitude which rendered so familiar an appellation out of place.
"In less than a minute he had lit the gas in his sitting-room, and Sophy stood gazing around in wonder and delight. Our reporter is a gentleman of taste, no mere grub working from hand to mouth. He entered the ranks of journalism from choice, and possesses a private income which renders him independent of it; thus he is enabled to surround himself with luxuries which are out of the reach of the ordinary rank and file of his brother workers, who one and all have a good word for him because of the kindnesses they have on numerous occasions received at his hands.
"Sophy looked round on the books and pictures and valuable objects with which the room was literally packed, and her appreciation-little as she understood them-was expressed in her eyes.
"'This is my den, Sophy,' said our reporter. 'What do you think of it?'
"As he spoke he applied a lighted match to a couple of bachelor's wheels in the stove, and in an instant a cheerful fire was glowing.
"'Well, I never!' exclaimed Sophy. 'It's magic.'
"'No, Sophy, sober fact. Single life nowadays is filled with innumerable conveniences to keep a fellow from the path of matrimony. This little bachelor's wheel'-holding one up-'is a formidable foe to anxious mammas with marriageable daughters. But I am talking above you, Sophy; pardon the flight. Go to the window there; you will see the river from it.'
"He stood by her side while she gazed upon the wonderful sight, too little appreciated by those who are familiar with it. The moon was shining brightly, and the heavens were dotted with stars; long lines of lights were shining in the water, animated as it were with a mysterious spiritual life by the shifting currents of the river. It was at this moment that Sophy gave expression to a remarkable effort at grammar.
"'I say, 'ow 'igh the Thames are!'
"Our reporter was amused, and did not correct her. 'Yes, Sophy, the river has reached an unusual height. And now, little one, as time is flying, let us proceed to business.'
"Sophy, brought down to earth, retired from the window, and stood by the table, at which our reporter seated himself. He could not prevail upon her to take a chair.
"'I can talk better standing,' she said. 'Before I tell what I got to tell, I'd like to know wot aunt said of me when you and 'er was up in Mr. Felix's rooms this morning. You know. When I'd jest got out of bed.'
"'Nothing very particular, Sophy,' said our reporter, 'except that you were a sound sleeper.'
"'You arksed 'er that?' said Sophy, shrewdly.
"'Yes, You see, Sophy, I was naturally anxious to learn all I could of the strange disappearance of M. Felix's body. It was there last night when you and your aunt went to bed; it was not there this morning when you got up.'
"'Aunt couldn't tell yer much.'
"'She could tell me nothing. She went to bed, and though she has passed bad nights this week-'
"'Oh, she sed that, did she?'
"'Yes.'
"'Meaning
