street, and was fortunately met by the messenger.

"Burns. Ah! the old story—open fires and no guard. When will you women learn wisdom?"

Mrs. Fowley shrank from his stern look, and whined, "How can the likes of we afford guards, I should like to know?"

"Afford?" he echoed sharply, as he turned from his examination of Susy's hurts. "You women spend enough at the 'Blue Dragon' every week to put a guard at every fire-place, to say nothing of what the men spend. If you hadn't been drinking together, and neglecting home, this wouldn't have happened. I can smell the gin here and now!"

The old doctor was noted for his plain speaking, but with all his sternness to wrong doing, he was very tender-hearted, and nothing could have been more gentle than his touch on Susy's arm.

Fortunately her hurts were surface burns, and no vital part had been touched by the flame. But Dick's were more severe, and the doctor took infinite pains in bandaging the scarred hands and wrists.

"You're a brave lad," he said, when the pain was eased, and the last strip of lint put on. "How did you come to be burned like this?"

"I ran in from the garden when she screamed, and I got her down and scrambled out the flames somehow with my hands and jacket. You see, I had to be Lionheart," he added softly.

"Lionheart, is he your hero, the crusader king?"

Dick nodded, half scared at finding his cherished aspirations shared by another.

"But there is a living Leader to follow, my boy, who is better than all the knights of old. Do you know whom I mean?"

"Yes, sir, the Lord Jesus."

"Yes, He is the Lion of Judah, and the true Captain of all true crusaders to-day. Follow Him, and he will make you Lionheart indeed."

Then turning to Mrs. Fowley, he said in a different tone, "You owe your child's life to this brave little lad. Now take care of him in return. He'll not be able to work for a good while, and he wants feeding up as well. He has no business to be so thin and ill-nourished. See that his hands are kept covered, and Susy's arm too. I'll send liniment down to-night for both. And you will have to nurse the baby yourself, and do the work for many a day."

The old doctor's voice was stern as he finished, for he had known Dick's father and mother in their own tidy little home, and he hated Mrs. Fowley's drinking habits, and her neglect of the children, and unkindness to the orphan boy. For once she looked ashamed of herself, and the neighbours, feeling guilty themselves, slipped away. They knew the doctor was right, and that most of the accidents he had to attend, and the poverty that caused him to work for nothing, were alike due to the drink.

And life was certainly a little easier for Dick in the next few days.

His bandaged hands made house-work impossible, and so he was allowed to go to school in peace.

And the knowledge that Susy owed her life to him, made even the ill-tempered father a shade less surly.

He could not write or do sums, but the teacher saw that his time was well filled. Dick was a favourite of his because his work was so faithfully done, in spite of drawbacks.

Home lessons had small chance in Mrs. Fowley's presence, and the frequent excuses for keeping him at home had sadly interfered with his getting on, but in school no boy was happier than he.

In the playground there might be taunts about his shabby clothes, and rough usage from the Fowley boys, that were hard to bear patiently.

And he did not always succeed in keeping his temper down.

But when, once or twice, he had struck a blow for freedom, garbled tales were carried home and he had to suffer tenfold afterwards for his daring.

But the thought of Lionheart and his long waiting made him brave to suffer and endure. And more and more the thought of Jesus, as the Friend and Leader of those who follow Him, filled the darkest hours with joy.

The annual examination was drawing near, and Dick was very anxious to be able to use his hands by then, and "pass the standard" successfully.

Meanwhile, he worked doubly hard, and went far ahead of the other boys in lessons that had to be learned by heart.

And the teacher lent him books to read that helped him wonderfully, though he could only read them by snatches.

He saw how boys as poor and friendless as himself had had to bear hardship and unkindness, and how they had fought their way onward, through all difficulties, to success and freedom, and his own resolve grew stronger every day.

Now and then Mrs. Fowley would order him to be off out of her way, and when this happened in the evening he gladly went to Paddy's lodgings.

It was so quiet there, after the scolding and quarrelling at home, and Paddy always had a welcome for him, while bright-eyed Pat quickly learned to know his owner.

He grew very fast, and was so full of fun and frolic, that there were no dull times when he was awake.

And Paddy, who seemed to know all about dogs and their doings, suggested that he should be taught tricks "because of his knowingness."

And teaching him to beg and sing and shake hands, filled many a merry half-hour that autumn, and the Fowley's would scarcely have known Dick, if they had seen him there.

When the examination day came he managed to get through successfully, though his paperwork had to have allowances made for its deficiencies.

But at home all the effects of Susy's rescue had passed away, and Dick was more scolded and starved than ever before.

CHAPTER III.

A DASH FOR FREEDOM.

"Here, you young rascal, I'll teach you to meddle with my tools! What have you done with my knife?"

"I haven't had it," said Dick, looking up from the stocking he was awkwardly trying to darn by the firelight.

His hands were quite healed now, but still stiff and scarred from the burns, though the doctor had said the marks would get less as time went on.

"None of your tales, now. Tim said he saw you with it to-day. Give it me back this minute, or you shall have a dressing you won't forget in a hurry!"

"But I haven't seen it even," cried Dick earnestly. "Tim must have made a mistake."

"Oh, of course! Putting it on Tim, as usual," sneered Mrs. Fowley. "Your impudence is getting past bearing. Just go and get the knife this minute."

Dick stood up uncertainly, not knowing how to prove his innocence.

Everything that went wrong in that ill-managed household, was always in some mysterious way due to his shortcomings, but nothing had ever yet made him tell a lie, and in their hearts they knew it.

"I haven't seen it," he repeated, and there was absolute truth in the clear brown eyes, and Mrs. Fowley shifted her own uneasily as he looked at her.

But she said aloud, "He wants something to break down his spirit, Fowley, he ain't half so biddable as he used to be, and now he's passed the standard and can go to work, we shan't live for his pride and upstartness."

Now, Dick had not once refused to obey her commands, but since Paddy had told him about his uncle, and the possibility of going next year to find him and independence at the same time, the new hope had given him a bolder bearing.

There were times when he quite forgot to be afraid of blows and short rations, and when sharp words passed over him almost unheard. He was so sure the way would be made plain for him, and that his bondage would soon be at an end.

"Impudent, is he?" said Fowley, with an ugly scowl on his face, as he turned to the corner where the cruel strap was hung, to be the terror of all the children.

"I'll teach you manners, you young thief that we've kep' out of the workhouse and supported for nothing all these years."

"Not for nothing!" said Dick, with a sudden flash of passionate indignation. "You had all father's money and kept it, and I've worked just like a slave