Street and the Avon. In those alleys were hundreds of our poor folk
living, huddled together in misery, rags, and dirt. Was John Halifax
living there too?

My father's tan-yard was in an alley a little further on. Already I
perceived the familiar odour; sometimes a not unpleasant barky smell;
at other times borne in horrible wafts, as if from a lately forsaken
battle-field. I wondered how anybody could endure it--yet some did;
and among the workmen, as we entered, I looked round for the lad I
knew.

He was sitting in a corner in one of the sheds, helping two or three
women to split bark, very busy at work; yet he found time to stop now
and then, and administered a wisp of sweet hay to the old blind mare,
as she went slowly round and round, turning the bark mill. Nobody
seemed to notice him, and he did not speak to anybody.

As we passed John did not even see us. I asked my father, in a
whisper, how he liked the boy.

"What boy?--eh, him?--Oh, well enough--there's no harm in him that I
know of. Dost thee want him to wheel thee about the yard? Here, I
say, lad--bless me! I've forgot thy name."

John Halifax started up at the sharp tone of command; but when he saw
me he smiled. My father walked on to some pits where he told me he
was trying an important experiment, how a hide might be tanned
completely in five months instead of eight. I stayed behind.

"John, I want you."