A CHILD OF THE JAGO
ruthless for him at ten; and had tied a brick to his neck, as he had seen done with needless dogs, and let himself timidly down into the canal at Haggerstone Bridge.
So he shuffled through Jago Row, when a hand came on his shoulder and a hoarse voice said: "Wot's the matter, Dicky!"
He turned, and saw the mild, coarse face of Pigeony Poll, the jaw whereof was labouring on something tough and sticky. Poll pulled from her pocket a glutinous paper, clinging about a cohesive lump of broken toffee—the one luxury of her moneyed times. "'Ave a bit?" she said. "Wot's the matter?"
But Dicky thrust the hand away and fled, for he feared another burst of tears. His eyes were bad enough as it was, and he longed to hide himself in some hole.
He turned into New Jago street. Hither it was that Jerry Gullen had betaken himself with his family and the Canary, after
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