Only I rather hoped we should find our man--or boy--in Style Street.
But that we did not do.

The flagstone on which he was wont to establish his box was there, bare and unoccupied except for the scrawling letters and sums traced out with his finger-tip.

High or low, he was not to be found in Style Street.
We went on in the growing dark towards the court.
"Do you know the house he lives at ?" "I'm not sure," said Jack.
"Do you know what name to inquire for ?" "No, only Billy," said Jack.
"Don't you think," said I, "it's rather unlikely we shall come across him in a crowded court like that, knowing neither the name nor the house where he lives ?" "Let us try, anyhow," said Jack.
We went on, and soon reached the well-known "slum." I must confess honestly I would rather not have entered.

Last time we had been there one of us had been struck by smallpox, and both had had to run for our lives, and it seemed to me--perhaps my illness had made me a coward-- that we were running an unnecessary risk now by plunging into it just because Billy happened to be an hour late for an appointment.
However, Jack was determined, and I was determined to stick by Jack.
When we first entered, the court was as before, swarming with men and women and children, and in the crowd we passed some way unnoticed.
Presently, however, Jack stopped and asked a woman-- "Do you know in what house a little boy called Billy who black boots lives ?" The woman who was engaged in sewing a black sleeve on to an old grey coat, looked up sharply, and demanded-- "What do you want to know for ?" "I want to see him," said Jack.
"What do you want to see him for ?" "He didn't come to the ragged school to-night." The woman flared up.
"We don't want none of your ragged schools! You go and teach yourselves manners--that's what you'd better do, and don't come nosing about here-- as if we couldn't get on without a parcel of snuffing young prigs like you to tell us what to do.

That's what I think of you." And the honest British matron tossed her head in a huff, and went on with her patchwork.
"If everybody was as honest as you," said Jack--where the sly dog learned the art of flattery I can't imagine--"no one would interfere.
But we are afraid Billy's mother is not very good to him." The woman looked up again, as if not quite sure what to make of this speech.