"All aboard!" While the unhappy Steve, shrieking prayers and curses, was struggling vainly to extricate himself from the hands gripping his ankles, Annette Perrotte, stepping smartly along the street on her way from the box factory, came past the entrance to the lane.

By her side strode a broad-shouldered, upstanding youth.

Arrested by Steve's outcries and curses she paused.
"What are those boys at, I wonder ?" she said.

"There's that big lout of a Wigglesworth boy.

He's up to no good, I bet you." "Oh, a kids' row of some kind or ither, a doot," said the youth.