The boy came up to a big porch with four pillars, and stepped in to rest

and reflect. The long tunnels of smoking lights which had receded down

the streets were not to be seen from there, and so he knew that he was

in a square. It would be Soho Square, but whether he was on the south or

east of it he could not tell, and consequently he was at a loss to know

which way to turn. A great silence had fallen over everything, and only

the sobbing nostrils of the cab-horses seemed to be audible in the

hollow air.

He was very cold. The snow had got into his shoes, and through the rents

in his cross-gartered stockings. His red waistcoat wanted buttons, and

he could feel that his shirt was wet. He tried to shake the snow off by

stamping, but it clung to his velveteens. His numbed fingers could

scarcely hold the cage, which was also full of snow. By the light coming

from a fanlight over the door in the porch he looked at his squirrel.

The little thing was trembling pitifully in its icy bed, and he took it

out and breathed on it to warm it, and then put it in his bosom. The

sound of a child's voice laughing and singing came to him from within

the house, muffled by the walls and the door. Across the white vapour

cast outward from the fanlight he could see nothing but the crystal

snowflakes falling wearily.

He grew dizzy, and sat down by one of the pillars. After a while a

shiver passed along his spine, and then he became warm and felt sleepy.

A church clock struck nine, and he started up with a guilty feeling, but

his limbs were stiff and he sank back again, blew two or three breaths

on to the squirrel inside his waistcoat, and fell into a doze. As he

dropped off into unconsciousness he seemed to see the big, cheerless

house, almost destitute of furniture, where he lived with thirty or

forty other boys. They trooped in with their organs and accordions,

counted out their coppers to a man with a clipped moustache, who was

blowing whiffs of smoke from a long, black cigar, with a straw through

it, and then sat down on forms to eat their plates of macaroni and

cheese. The man was not in good temper to-night, and he was shouting at

some who were coming in late and at others who were sharing their supper

with the squirrels that nestled in their bosoms, or the monkeys, in red

jacket and fez, that perched upon their shoulders. The boy was perfectly

unconscious by this time, and the child within the house was singing

away as if her little breast was a cage of song-birds.




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