toward the very last place on the face of the earth that he desired
to visit-his own home. The army remained for a few seconds
bewildered by the dramatic and unexpected, and, leaderless, did what
many a real army has done in similar circumstances, straggled into
disintegration.

Thenceforward, Paul, had he so chosen, could have ruled despotically
in Budge Street. But he did not choose. The games from which he used
to be excluded, or in which he used to be allowed to join on
sufferance, no longer appealed to him. He preferred to let Joey
Meakin lead the gang, vice Billy Goodge deposed, while he himself
remained aloof. Now and then he condescended to arbitrate between
disputants or to kick a little brute of a, bully, but he felt that,
in doing so, he was derogating from his high dignity. It was his joy
to feel himself a dark, majestic power overshadowing the street, a
kind of Grand Llama hidden in mystery. Often he would walk through
the midst of the children, seemingly unconscious of their existence,
acting strenuously to himself his part of a high-born prince.

This lasted till a dark and awful day when Mr. Button pitched him
into the factory. These were times before kindly Education Acts and
Factory Acts decreed that no boy under twelve years of age should
work in a factory, and that every boy under fourteen should spend
half his time at the factory and half at school. Paul's education
was considered complete, and he had to plunge into full time at the
grim and grinding place. He had joined the great army of workers. A
wide gulf separated him from the gang of Budge Street. It existed
for him no more than did the little girls and babies. Life changed
its aspect entirely. Gone were the days of vagabondage, the lazy,
the delicious even though cold and hungry hours of dreaming and