With a terrible dread of starvation, or being frozen to death, he leaned against a lamp-post.
Suddenly a policeman came upon him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, roughly.
"Nothing," replied Tommy.
"Move on."
"I've nowhere to go to. I'm a stranger here, and——"
"Go to the workhouse," interrupted the policeman.
"I don't know where it is."
"Then I ain't going to tell you. All I know is, if you don't get off my beat, I'll have to make you."
With a weary sigh Tommy trudged on in the rapidly deepening snow.