"Why, this is Dean Street, Maurice. Yes, and that's, that's number
twenty. We can get our night's lodging without that unkind ragged
girl after all."

Then the children, holding each other's hands, and Toby keeping
close behind, found themselves in the file of people, and making
their way into the house, over the door of which was written:

"CHEAP LODGINGS FOR THE NIGHT FOR WOMEN AND CHILDREN."

Early as the hour was, the house seemed already full from attic to
cellar. Cecile and Maurice were pushed into a good-sized room about
halfway up the first flight of stairs.

At the door of this room a woman stood, who demanded pennies of
everyone before they were allowed to enter the room.

Cecile had some slight difficulty in getting hers out of the bosom
of her frock; she did so with anxiety, and some effort at
concealment, which was observed by two people:

One was a red-faced, wicked-looking girl of about sixteen; the other
was a pale woman, who turned her worn faded brown eyes, with a
certain look of pathos in them, on the little pair.

The moment the people got into the room, there was a scramble for
the beds, which were nothing better than wooden boards, with canvas
bags laid on them, and a second piece of canvas placed for covering.
But bad and comfortless as these beds looked, without either pillow
or bolster, they were all eagerly coveted, and all soon full. Two and