The carman shook him by the hand as they passed the Boar and Castle, and bade him farewell, and our hero found himself alone in the vast metropolis.
What was he to do? He hardly knew—but one thought struck him, which was, that he must find a bed for the night. He wandered up and down Oxford Street for some time, but every one walked so quick that he was afraid to speak to them: at last a little girl, of seven or eight years of age, passed by him, and looked him earnestly in the face.
“Can you tell me where I can get a bed for the night?” said Joey.
“Have you any brads?” was the reply.
“What are those?” said Joey.
“Any money, to be sure; why, you’re green—quite.”
“Yes, I have a shilling.”
“That will do—come along, and you shall sleep with me.”
Joey followed her very innocently, and very glad that he had been so fortunate. She led him to a street out of Tottenham-court-road, in which there were no lamps—the houses, however, were large, and many stories high.
“Take my hand,” said the girl, “and mind how you tread.”