place in her affections. Still he was her father, and now and then he had been kind to her, and hence he was more to her than a stranger, and her little heart longed for one more sight of his face. They did not wait long at the end of Bowker's Row. Ascertaining that the coast was tolerably clear, they darted up the street, and without any one recognizing them, turned into Addler's Hall. From the window of their late home a feeble light struggled, which satisfied them that the house was not empty.
"Take care," said Benny to his sister, "an' don't make no noise if yer can 'elp it."
"Right you are," whispered his sister, and with silent footfalls they glided up to the door and listened.
From within came the sound of voices, but they were the voices of children—strange voices, too, they were.
And Benny looked at his sister and whispered—
"By golly! this are a go. The owd folks 'ave flit, that's sartin."
"Can yer get a peep through the winder, Benny?" said Nelly, with a white, startled face.
"Dunno, but I'll try;" and try he did, but without success.
"Brimstone!" he whispered, scratching his head: "what's us to do? Oh, I 'ave it," he said at length. "Come 'ere, Nell. I's 'mazin' strong, an' I can lift you 'igh 'nough to get a peep."
And, taking his sister in his arms, he managed, not without considerable difficulty, to enable her to look
