Thrums, but to those rather who have been boys and girls there and now
are exiles. Such a one Tommy knows, an unhappy woman, foolish, not very
lovable, flung like a stone out of the red quarry upon a land where it
cannot grip, and tearing her heart for a sight of the home she shall see
no more. From her Tommy had his pictures, and he colored them rarely.

Never before had he such a listener. "Oh, dagont, dagont!" he would cry
in ecstasy over these fair scenes, and she, awed or gurgling with mirth
according to the nature of the last, demanded "'Nother, 'nother!"
whereat he remembered who and what she was, and showing her a morsel of
the new one, drew her to more distant parts, until they were so far from
his street that he thought she would never be able to find the way back.

His intention had been, on reaching such a spot, to desert her promptly,
but she gave him her hand in the muff so confidingly that against his
judgment he fell a-pitying the trustful mite who was wandering the
world in search of a mother, and so easily diddled on the whole that
the chances were against her finding one before morning. Almost
unconsciously he began to look about him for a suitable one.

They were now in a street much nearer to his own home than the spurts
from spot to spot had led him to suppose. It was new to him, but he
recognized it as the acme of fashion by those two sure signs; railings
with most of their spikes in place, and cards scored with, the word
"Apartments." He had discovered such streets as this before when in
Shovel's company, and they had watched the toffs go out and in, and it
was a lordly sight, for first the toff waggled a rail that was loose at
the top and then a girl, called the servant, peeped at him from below,
and then he pulled the rail again, and then the door opened from the
inside, and you had a glimpse of wonder-land with a place for hanging