CHAPTER IX.
ADRIFT.
Gibbie was now without a home.

He had had a whole city for his dwelling, every street of which had been to him as another hall in his own house, every lane as a passage from one set of rooms to another, every court as a closet, every house as a safe, guarding the only possessions he had, the only possessions he knew how to value--his fellow-mortals, radiant with faces, and friendly with hands and tongues.

Great as was his delight in freedom, a delight he revelled in from morning to night, and sometimes from night to morning, he had never had a notion of it that reached beyond the city, he never longed for larger space, for wider outlook.

Space and outlook he had skyward--and seaward when he would, but even into these regions he had never yet desired to go.

His world was the world of men; the presence of many was his greater room; his people themselves were his world.