The two little boys, their heads covered with enormous and very new examples of the art of Mr. Albert Smith, pretended not to hear her appeal. They remained in fixed contemplation of a counter of glaring cakes and sweets.

“Come here, you two!” repeated the lady.

They did, at that, sheepishly turn round and begin moving towards her, with an air as if it were a complete accident that their feet carried them in that particular direction rather than in any other.

“I won’t hurt you,” she said, as softly as she could in the midst of the terrific noise that whirled round them. “What are your names, my dears?”

“Stepney Major,” murmured one of the little boys.

“Trelawney Minor,” gasped the other.