A little Italian boy sat doubled over his organ on a doorstep, while a yet smaller girl at his elbow plied him with questions in English.  Emilia stopped before them, and the girl complained to her that the perverse little foreigner would not answer.  Two or three words in his native tongue soon brought his face to view.  Emilia sat down between them, and listened to the prattle of two languages.  The girl said that she never had supper, which was also the case with the boy; so Emilia felt for her purse, and sent the girl with sixpence in search of a shop that sold cafes.  The girl came back with her apron full.  As they were all about to eat, a policeman commanded them to quit the spot, informing them that he knew both them and their dodges.  Emilia stood up, and was taking her little people away, when the policeman, having suddenly changed his accurate opinion of her, said, “You’re giving ’em some supper, miss?  Oh, they must sit down to their suppers, you know!” and walked away, not to be a witness of this infraction of the law.  So, they sat down and ate, and the boy and girl tried to say intelligible things to one another, and laughed.  Emilia could not help joining in their laughter.  The girl was very anxious to know whether the boy was ever beaten, and hearing that he was, she appeared better satisfied, remarking that she was also, but curious still as to the different forms of chastisement they received.  This being partially explained, she wished to know whether he would be beaten that night, Emilia interpreting.  A grin, and a rapid whistle and ‘cluck,’ significant of the application of whips, told the state of his expectations; at which the girl clapped her hands, adding, lamentably, “So shall I, ’cause I am always.”  Emilia gathered them under each shoulder, when, to her delight and half perplexity, they closed their eyes, leaning against her.

The policeman passed, and for an hour endured this spectacle.  At last he felt compelled to explain to Emilia what were the sentiments of gentlefolks with regard to their doorsteps, apart from the law of the matter.  He put it to her human nature whether she would like her doorsteps to be blocked, so that no one could enter, and anyone emerging stood a chance of being precipitated, nose foremost, upon the pavement.  Then, again, as gentle-folks had good experience of, the young ones in London were twice as cunning as the old.  Emilia pleaded for her sleeping pair, that they might not be disturbed.  Her voice gave the keeper of the peace notions of her being one of the eccentric young ladies who are occasionally ‘missing,’ and have advertizing friends.  He uttered a stern ahem! preliminary to assent; but the noise wakened the children, who stared, and readily obeyed his gesture, which said, “Be off!” while his words were those of remonstrance.  Emilia accompanied them a little way.  Both promised eagerly that they would be at the same place the night following and departed—­the