"That is not always the case," put in Sir Edward, half touched, half
amused. "Sometimes it is very rich people who run away from God, and
they get richer when they are away from Him."

Milly looked puzzled.

"But they can't be happy, uncle. Oh, they never can be!"

"Perhaps not."

"Well, I talked to this poor man till we had walked quite away from the
shops, and then he turned down a lane, and I went with him; and we were
both rather tired, so we sat down together on some doorsteps inside an
archway, and he told me all about himself. His name is Jack, and his
father and mother are dead, like mine; and he got drunk one night, and
fell down and broke his arm, and then he went to a hospital; and when he
got well and went back to his work again, his master couldn't take him,
because some one else was in his place, and he couldn't get any work. I
asked him were there no pigs to keep, but he said there weren't any in
London, and he was there, and for six months, he told me, he had been
'on the tramp'; that's what he called it. I asked him what that meant,
and he said just walking on every day to no place particular. And he
said something about going to the bad, which I couldn't quite
understand. Then I asked him why he didn't go back to God, and he said
he had been a good boy once, when he went to Sunday-school, and he had a
very good uncle who kept a baker's shop in London, and who wanted him to
go and live with him, but he wouldn't, because he was too good for him.
And I asked him why he wouldn't go to him now, and he said he couldn't
tramp back again to London, it was too far, and he had no money. So
then I opened my purse, and we counted over my money together, and he