space.) "Why, bless my heart, here's a child crying on the
steps!"

Another form appeared.

"Is there nobody with it? Halloo! any one there?"

No answer came save from poor little Ginx, but his was decided.
The two servants descended the steps and looked at the miserable
boy without touching him. Then they peered into the darkness in
hope that they might get a glimpse of his mother or a policeman.
A rapid step sounded on the pavement and a gentleman came up to
the group.

"What have we here?" he said gently.

"It's a child, Sir Charles, I found crying on the steps. I
expect it's a trick to get rid of him. We are looking for a
policeman to take him away."

"Poor little fellow," said Sir Charles, stooping to take a fair
look at Ginx's Baby, "for you and such as you the policeman or
the parish officers are the national guardians, and the prison or
the poor-house the home. . . . . Bring him into the Club,
Smirke."

The men hesitated a moment before executing so unwonted a demand,
but Sir Charles Sterling was a man not safely to be thwarted--a
late minister and a member of the committee. The child being
carried into the magnificent hall of the Club, stood on its