a whirl after my recent philanthropic effort and the ventriloquist of the King's Palace of Varieties that I could remember neither when nor where I had known her. However, my mind was not so dazed but that I understood that I had to help her; and as I went under a lamp I pulled my money out of my pocket that I might pay for her night's lodging. I found that I had only a sixpence and some coppers, and the shock cleared my wits.
The girl went under the railway arch, turned on to the embankment and crossed the road. I whipped off my beard, thrust it into my pocket and came up to within ten yards of her. She did not hear my gutta-percha foot-fall. She went to the parapet, and looked over it into the river. I made ready to catch hold of her if she should try to climb it, but she stepped back, drew herself up and went on with a defiant air. I followed her, trying to make my mind work clearly enough to devise some way of helping her—the difficulty was that not only were the sixpence and the coppers all the money I had with me, but there was very little at home. The girl walked along bravely enough for some twenty yards, then she began to droop, and I heard a little sob burst from her.
I caught her up, raised my hat, and said: "I beg your pardon, but I'm afraid you're in trouble. Can I help you?"
