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IT was a wretched evening, only a few days before the joyful Christmas season. The weather was damp and chill, and the London streets were slippery and comfortless. Pale, shivering forms sheltered themselves in every conceivable nook which was safe, for a time at any rate, from the keen scrutiny of the police; business men and women were wending their different ways homewards from the City, and the theatres and other places of amusement were not yet open. The shops were with enticing articles displayed to the best advantage, and many a poor child stood wistfully gazing at the fruit in the grocers' windows, so temptingly set out, as though to purposely tantalize hungry eyes.
And then the toys! Wonderful inventions made for the children of the wealthy! Engines worked by machinery! Dolls that opened and shut their eyes, and even walked and talked! Noah's arks of marvellous workmanship, containing every known animal on the face of the globe!