"'Stop that!' I says, goin' in quick, and she looked as if she'd been shot. 'And now I've come to fetch these 'ere little 'uns away. I've seen yer cruelty to 'em, and if you make a fuss I'll expose you, as sure as my name's Jem Seymour.'
"With that she stares at me hard, and I go to Dickie and untie his eyes once more. They was terrible bad by this time, and he only cried more than ever at the light, and ran to Cherry.
"'Come, Cherry,' I says to her, 'there's them outside as will see justice done this time. Come along with me; put that shawl round Dickie, and never you fear, my dear.'
"Then I turned to her as they call old Sairy—'As for you,' says I, 'if you're ever seen with such another little 'un as this, I'll give you in charge that instant!'
"Cherry lifted Dickie up, but she was too sore to carry him. So I took him in my arms, and he clung round my neck, and so we come away. The woman was too scared to say a word, but I think as she caught sight of the p'liceman's helmet as we went down."
Mrs. Seymour sat with her breakfast almost untasted.
"Oh, God be thanked as they are safe," she said at last. "Jem, you did quite right."
"I think as I did," he answered; "but it's a cruel world, mother."
"And that child, Cherry, said as she was praying for a home?" asked Mrs. Seymour presently.
"Yes; she told me so as we come along. Her little heart was near breakin'."