Little Harry Lyon found the circumstances of his fresh life so entirely different from his old existence, that he seemed a greater stranger to himself than the most strange of those who peopled his new world.

To begin with, he was, to use his aunt's own term, "breeched" the next day, and his petticoats became the big baby's property, while his precious best frock was poked unceremoniously into a box under his aunt's bed.

He looked after it with longing eyes. He had waited so long to wear it and it seemed too bad to have it taken away when he had only worn it so few times, and it was made with a pocket, the first he had ever had. As he saw the box slammed down, he remembered with a pang that in the pocket was his little bestest white handkerchief with lace on it and in the corner of the handkerchief, tied in an easy knot, was a penny that Denys had given him.

He had never dared to ask her again for even a ha'penny, but one day she had given him a bright penny that shone like gold and he had treasured it with utmost joy, more because he had not asked for it, than for its value as a penny.

The edge of the box which held his treasures stuck out from under the bed, and he watched it for a long time, resolving in his little mind that one day he would manage somehow to get his own again.

The confinement of his new life irked him as much as his breeches, for he had been used to wandering about the Landslip and the Whitecliff beach at his own pleasure, and now there were but two rooms to wander in, or at best a short and narrow street, beyond whose limits he was forbidden to go, and it was filled with rough and noisy children who pushed him and pinched him and who roared vociferously whenever they saw him, after they discovered that his name was Lyon.

He had always made friends with all the sailors and visitors at Whitecliff, but here the men and women hurried about their business and never even glanced at the golden-headed little chap, and there were no boats to be pulled up and pushed out, and no tide, and no sands, and no—no anything.

Harry stood at the top of the dull street looking forlornly about him, when he came to that conclusion, and when he realised it, he burst into a sudden fit of heart-broken crying.

There were no loving arms now in which to sob out his woes, and he turned his little back upon the world and covering his face with his hands, leaned his head against a big brick wall and wept, and wept, and wept for his mother.

"Oh, mummy—mummy—mummy—"

"Why, Harry!" said his Uncle Jim's voice, "whatever's the matter with you? You shouldn't be crying—you're a big boy now. Have the boys been hitting you?"

Harry did not turn or heed him.

"Oh, mummy—mummy—mummy," he wailed.

"Harry!" said Jim again, "here's a penny for you—let's go and buy some sweeties."

But Harry was past that.

"Oh, mummy—mummy—my mummy—I want my mummy."

There was no mistaking the heart-broken cry this time, and Jim looked helplessly at Tom Green who stood beside him.

"It's the old story," said Tom gently, "'They have taken away my Lord and I know not where they have laid him.'" Then he stooped down to the level of the little weeping child and drew him into his arms and turned the tear-stained little face to rest on his shoulder.

"Harry!" he said gently, "dear mummy has gone to live in a beautiful Home with Jesus and she's so happy and she doesn't cough any more or feel tired any more. Oh, she's so happy. And she is with Jesus. She used to tell you about Him, didn't she?"

The comfort of the kind arms and the kind voice, and above all, the words of hope that carried the childish thoughts straight to happiness and seemed to find his mother for him again, comforted the little heart at once, and Harry's sobs came only with a long drawn breath as he listened.

Tom did not wait for an answer, he went on in the same low, soothing tone.

"Jesus has got such a lovely Home ready for dear mummy and He is getting one ready for little Harry too, and one day Jesus will call Harry and he will see Jesus and dear mummy and the beautiful Home and be so happy."

"Yes," murmured Harry nestling closer. He was so tired of crying and being lonely, and these arms held him so nicely. He gave a deep, deep sigh which somehow spoke of restfulness and of the sorrow being past, and Tom raised himself and looked in the tear-stained face a moment, then kissed it and wiped it with his handkerchief.

"That's better!" he said cheerfully, "would you like a ride on Uncle Tom's shoulder? Uncle Tom is coming home to tea with Harry, and Uncle Tom's awful hungry—he's going to eat a whole big loaf for tea."

Harry laughed gleefully as he found himself swung in an instant on to Uncle Tom's shoulder and was carried along high above all the other little rough children's heads, and was even on a level with Uncle Jim! By stretching out his hand he could pat the top of Uncle Jim's head; and he laughed again as he gave Uncle Jim a good hard pat.

"You are a clever one, Tom," said Jim admiringly, "how did you pick it up?"

Tom might have said, "Out of my own sorrow," but he only smiled, and told Harry to mind his head as he stopped at Jim's doorway and carried him upstairs to Aunt Jane and the baby.

Harry became Tom's devoted slave thenceforth, and Jim watched the two playing and whispering together almost jealously, and yet he liked Tom too well to really grudge him the child's love, and Tom looked so happy,—happier than Jim had seen him since Pattie gave him up.

Jim took notice too of the way Tom amused the child, how he became a child for the time being, and all the materials he had were trifles from his pockets; a piece of paper and a pencil, a few odd buttons and keys, a bit of string and an empty match box!

Jim knew that his ingenuity could never amuse Harry with such things, but he determined to buy some toys that very evening, and to try his hand at winning the child's heart the next evening. Jane took very little notice of any of them and after putting the baby to bed, announced that she had shopping to do, and as Tom saw her slip an empty jug into her shopping basket, he knew what her final destination would be and that she would not return for some considerable time.

"Aren't you going to put the little 'un to bed before you go out, Jane?" he said, "we've had a good spell of play and he's half asleep now."

But Jane deigned no answer, unless the slam of the door as she disappeared on to the stairs, was one.

Jim shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Harry and me, we do the bedding-down between us," he said rather sheepishly, "run and get your nightie, boy."

Then as Harry trotted off, he added in a lower tone, "She won't do nothing for him, so I have to. It's no use arguing over everything and so——"

Tom nodded. "So you have to be father and mother both," he said. "He's more of a little 'un than I expected, but he's a dear little 'un. I've right down enjoyed myself this evening."

The two men between them undressed Harry and superintended his prayers, and tucked him into his bed, and then they sat by the open window and chatted in low tones till the sound of their voices had lulled Harry to sleep, and then at last Tom rose and said he must be going. He went over to the cot and stood looking down on the little sleeping face, with its regular features, its long lashes lying on the bright cheeks, and its crown of tumbled golden hair.

"He's like the pictures of the angels," he said regretfully, "if Pattie and I had had our little home, we'd have loved to let him stay with us a bit, but I'll come in on Saturday and take him on the river, if you'll let me. It seems so long since I had anybody to go out with."

"Poor old Tom," said Jim affectionately, "it's cut you very hard, but I always believe it will come all right, you know!"

"Pooh!" said an unexpected voice behind them, "you would always believe anything silly, Jim Adams! Come right, indeed! Very likely! You just wait till I have seen Miss Pattie Paul again."

"Have you seen her?" asked Tom in a curiously quiet tone. He had gone very pale, but his face was in shadow and Jane did not perceive it or anything peculiar in his voice.

"Ha!" she cried vaingloriously, "I have! I let her know what I thought of her—mean little cat."

"Jane!" said her husband warningly.

"Oh, you needn't stand up for her," she said airily. "I'm not going to stand by and see my brother treated so. But what's a talking-to with a brazen hussy like that? Wait a bit, I haven't thought how to do it yet, but I'm going to pay her out. Trust me!"

And then Jim did what he had never done in his life before,—he took his wife by the shoulders and forcibly marched her into the bedroom and shut the door upon her.

"Come, Tom!" he said touching him gently on the shoulder, "we've had enough of this."

They passed down the stairs together, but on the landing below Tom stopped, and covering his face with his hands, leaned against the wall.

"Oh Pattie, Pattie," he moaned, "that's my last chance gone. And my own sister too."

Jim said nothing. He was not good at words, but he waited till Tom had recovered himself, and then he went right to his home with him and made a cup of tea for him and sat and chatted till past midnight.

"Don't be downhearted, old fellow," he said when he parted from him.

But as he went home again he muttered to himself and frowned.

"I wonder what Jane means to do? I wonder what she could do?"