and man in the other beds, who were listening openmouthed, 'I cannot,' said Geoffry, in a low tone.

'Nor how you came to be as I found you?' asked the doctor.

Geoffry, for an answer, bent his head forward upon the bed and cried.

'Well, never mind, we will not talk about it now,' said the doctor, patting him upon the shoulder; 'there is plenty of time for that;' and then the kind man turned to the other patients, and spoke to each of them in turn.

The nurse in this little hospital was a very good, careful nurse, and a very honest woman, but she had what are called prejudices. Prejudice means getting hold of an idea, whether right or wrong-and never asking whether it is right or wrong—but holding to it through everything. The more ignorant people are the more prejudices they have, and the more they learn the more prejudices they get rid of.

One of nurse's biggest prejudices was about people she called tramps; and having supposed when she first saw Geoffry that he was a tramp, nothing would make her think that he was not one; and she could not agree with the doctor in thinking that he ought to be cared for, whether a tramp or no. So when the doctor was gone, the nurse went back into the bedroom where Geoffry lay; muttering to herself, 'He ought to go to the workhouse, that's the proper place for tramps-for I know he is a tramp, and nothing else.'

She came and stood beside Geoffry's bed, and looked hard at him; and after she had looked some time, she said, 'You must tell me about yourself, do you hear? I can't be having tramping boys in this house. The doctor is a deal too gentle, as I always say. Come, speak out, and tell me your name at once; and where you come from.'

Geoffry said nothing.

'What is your name, boy?' said the nurse.

'I cannot tell you my name,' said he.

'Ah, so I thought! Been at no good then, I fancy. Boys as won't tell their names is ashamed of their names, and must be made to tell their names,' said the nurse. She stopped a little while, looking at him, while he coloured under her gaze; and then went on, 'Tell me your name at once, will you, you obstinate fellow; or I will make you.'

'I cannot tell you my name,' said Geoffry again.

'Cannot or will not?' asked the nurse sharply. 'I suppose you have a name.' She found it was of no use trying to force Geoffry to speak against his will; but her curiosity as well as her temper was roused now, and she said as much to annoy the boy who had annoyed her as for any other reason. Ah, well, there is a way of making people speak as won't speak otherwise. We'll see if the policeman can't find out your name before this time to-morrow!'

Now the woman had no right to say such a thing

as this. Her duty was to nurse the patients—nothing more; but Geoffry did not know that, and he thought she would do as she said. He lay still thinking what he should do: he could not remain there, although he did not like to go without seeing the kind doctor and thanking him for his goodness. He waited till the evening, so that both the man with the broken leg and the boy with the bad back should be asleep, for he was afraid they would tell the nurse if he got up before them. He knew where to find his old clothes, which had been washed on his arrival, and were much improved by the washing. The nurse gave their patients their supper, then went down-stairs to take her own. She was a long time about it, Geoffry thought; long enough to allow both the man and the boy to go to sleep and snore loudly. After a time Geoffry heard the woman stepping about down-stairs, and saying something to the women patients in the room below; then, to his consternation, he heard her lock and bolt the entrance door. locking and the bolting made such a noise that Geoffry thought he would be surely heard in unfastening it.

The

The man

After a long time all was still, and he got out of bed and put on his old shirt and trousers. and boy still snored; he left the room softly and listened at the nurse's door. She snored also, and Geoffry walked barefoot down the stairs. But when he came to the entrance door he felt in vain for the key,it was under the nurse's pillow, with her head upon it.

What should he do? He felt all over the passage wall in the hope of finding the key, and in so doing made a noise.

'Oh my goodness, Mary!' said one of the women patients to another, 'there's thieves in the house! I'm well nigh sure I heard a noise.'

'You hold your tongue, will you, and let a body sleep,' said the other.

But though the women said no more, their words made Geoffry crouch down in the passage for the rest of the night, not knowing what to do.

Gradually the day broke, and by the indistinct light he could see about him. There was a back door to the house beyond the kitchen. Geoffry gently moved towards it and found it was unfastened. He passed through it quickly, and stood in a little garden with a high wall.

In two minutes he was at the top of the wall, and looking over a neighbouring garden; and in ten minutes he had run past all the backs of the cottages about there and was standing in the open country road, once more out upon the world, without prospect of help, a miserable, outcast boy-made so by his own folly and wrong.

to an end.

CHAPTER XVIII.

GEOFFRY'S REPENTANCE.

NCE more Geoffry was running away, thinking only to hide himself. Silly boy, if he had only stayed to think, he would have given himself up, and brought this miserable life

No sooner was he out of sight of the hospital and of the village than the old feeling of despair came over him. It was raining a cold drizzly rain, which quickly wetted him to the skin, and made him shiver with cold, although his head was burning hot all the time.

He had nowhere to go,-one place did as well as another, so he sat by the side of the lane and let the hours pass by. I do not think during that time that he ever thought what he really would do, whether he expected to sit by the roadside all the rest of the days of his life. There was a kind of terror upon him which he could not shake off. Once he heard wheels coming on