“We shall have to make haste,” said Sir Richard, rising, “for I should not like to be late, and it is a long drive to Whitechapel.”
“When do they begin?” asked Welland.
“They have tea at six, I believe, and then the meeting commences at seven, but I wish to be early that I may have a short conversation with one of the ladies of the Home.”
“Oh! it will be so nice, and such fun to see the dear little boys. How many are going to start for Canada, to-night, papa?”
“About fifty or sixty, I believe, but I’m not sure. They are sent off in batches of varying size from time to time.”
“Is the demand for them so great?” asked Welland, “I should have thought that Canadian farmers and others would be afraid to receive into their dwellings what is often described as the scum of the London streets.”
“They were afraid at first, I am told, but soon discovered that the little fellows who came from Miss Macpherson’s Home had been subjected to such good training and influences before leaving that they almost invariably turned out valuable and trustworthy workmen. No doubt there are exceptions in this as in every other case, but the demand is, it seems, greater than the supply. It is, however, a false idea that little waifs and strays, however dirty or neglected, are in any sense the scum of London. Youth, in all circumstances, is cream, and only turns into scum when allowed to stagnate or run to waste. Come, now, let us be off. Mr Seaward, the city missionary, is to meet us after the meeting, and show you and me something of those who have fallen very low in the social scale. Brisbane, who is also to be at the meeting, will bring Di home. By the way, have you heard anything yet about that poor comrade and fellow-clerk of yours—Twitter, I think, was his name—who disappeared so suddenly?”
“Nothing whatever. I have made inquiries in all directions—for I had a great liking for the poor fellow. I went also to see his parents, but they seemed too much cut up to talk on the subject at all, and knew nothing of his whereabouts.”
“Ah! it is a very sad case—very,” said Sir Richard, as they all descended to the street. “We might, perhaps, call at their house to-night in passing.” Entering a cab, they drove away.
From the foregoing conversation the reader will have gathered that the party were about to visit the Beehive, or Home of Industry, and that Sir Richard, through the instrumentality of little Di and the city missionary, had actually begun to think about the poor!