As Allan Woodcourt and Jo proceed along the streets where the highchurch spires and the distances are so near and clear in themorning light that the city itself seems renewed by rest, Allanrevolves in his mind how and where he shall bestow his companion.

　　"It surely is a strange fact," he considers, "that in the heart ofa civilized world this creature in human form should be moredifficult to dispose of than an unowned dog." But it is none theless a fact because of its strangeness, and the difficulty remains.

　　At first he looks behind him often to assure himself that Jo isstill really following. But look where he will, he still beholdshim close to the opposite houses, making his way with his wary handfrom brick to brick and from door to door, and often, as he creepsalong, glancing over at him watchfully. Soon satisfied that thelast thing in his thoughts is to give him the slip, Allan goes on,considering with a less divided attention what he shall do.

　　A breakfast-stall at a street-corner suggests the first thing to bedone. He stops there, looks round, and beckons Jo. Jo crosses andcomes halting and shuffling up, slowly scooping the knuckles of hisright hand round and round in the hollowed palm of his left,kneading dirt with a natural pestle and mortar. What is a daintyrepast to Jo is then set before him, and he begins to gulp thecoffee and to gnaw the bread and butter, looking anxiously abouthim in all directions as he eats and drinks, like a scared animal.

　　But he is so sick and miserable that even hunger has abandoned him.

　　"I thought I was amost a-starvin, sir," says Jo, soon putting downhis food, "but I don't know nothink--not even that. I don't carefor eating wittles nor yet for drinking on 'em." And Jo standsshivering and looking at the breakfast wonderingly.

　　Allan Woodcourt lays his hand upon his pulse and on his chest.

　　"Draw breath, Jo!" "It draws," says Jo, "as heavy as a cart." Hemight add, "And rattles like it," but he only mutters, "I'm a-moving on, sir."Allan looks about for an apothecary's shop. There is none at hand,but a tavern does as well or better. He obtains a little measureof wine and gives the lad a portion of it very carefully. Hebegins to revive almost as soon as it passes his lips. "We mayrepeat that dose, Jo," observes Allan after watching him with hisattentive face. "So! Now we will take five minutes' rest, andthen go on again."Leaving the boy sitting on the bench of the breakfast-stall, withhis back against an iron railing, Allan Woodcourt paces up and downin the early sunshine, casting an occasional look towards himwithout appearing to watch him. It requires no discernment toperceive that he is warmed and refreshed. If a face so shaded canbrighten, his face brightens somewhat; and by little and little heeats the slice of bread he had so hopelessly laid down. Observantof these signs of improvement, Allan engages him in conversationand elicits to his no small wonder the adventure of the lady in theveil, with all its consequences. Jo slowly munches as he slowlytells it. When he has finished his story and his bread, they go onagain.

　　Intending to refer his difficulty in finding a temporary place ofrefuge for the boy to his old patient, zealous little Miss Flite,Allan leads the way to the court where he and Jo firstforegathered. But all is changed at the rag and bottle shop; MissFlite no longer lodges there; it is shut up; and a hard-featuredfemale, much obscured by dust, whose age is a problem, but who isindeed no other than the interesting Judy, is tart and spare in herreplies. These sufficing, however, to inform the visitor that MissFlite and her birds are domiciled with a Mrs. Blinder, in BellYard, he repairs to that neighbouring place, where Miss Flite (whorises early that she may be punctual at the divan of justice heldby her excellent friend the Chancellor) comes running downstairswith tears of welcome and with open arms.

　　"My dear physician!" cries Miss Flite. "My meritorious,distinguished, honourable officer!" She uses some odd expressions,but is as cordial and full of heart as sanity itself can be--moreso than it often is. Allan, very patient with her, waits until shehas no more raptures to express, then points out Jo, trembling in adoorway, and tells her how he comes there.

　　"Where can I lodge him hereabouts for the present? Now, you have afund of knowledge and good sense and can advise me.

　　Miss Flite, mighty proud of the compliment, sets herself toconsider; but it is long before a bright thought occurs to her.

　　Mrs. Blinder is entirely let, and she herself occupies poorGridley's room. "Gridley!" exclaims Miss Flite, clapping her handsafter a twentieth repetition of this remark. "Gridley! To besure! Of course! My dear physician! General George will help usout."It is hopeless to ask for any information about General George, andwould be, though Miss Flite had not akeady run upstairs to put onher pinched bonnet and her poor little shawl and to arm herselfwith her reticule of documents. But as she informs her physicianin her disjointed manner on coming down in full array that GeneralGeorge, whom she often calls upon, knows her dear Fitz Jarndyce andtakes a great interest in all connected with her, Allan is inducedto think that they may be in the right way. So he tells Jo, forhis encouragement, that this walking about will soon be over now;and they repair to the general's. Fortunately it is not far.

　　From the exterior of George's Shooting Gallery, and the long entry,and the bare perspective beyond it, Allan Woodcourt augurs well.

　　He also descries promise in the figure of Mr. George himself,striding towards them in his mornmg exercise with his pipe in hismouth, no stock on, and his muscular arms, developed by broadswordand dumbbell, weightily asserting themselves through his lightshirt-sleeves.

　　"Your servant, sir," says Mr. George with a military salute. Good-humouredly smiling all over his broad forehead up into his crisphair, he then defers to Miss Flite, as, with great stateliness, andat some length, she performs the courtly ceremony of presentation.

　　He winds it up with another "Your servant, sir!" and anothersalute.

　　"Excuse me, sir. A sailor, I believe?" says Mr. George.

　　"I am proud to find I have the air of one," returns Allan; "but Iam only a sea-going doctor.""Indeed, sir! I should have thought you was a regular blue-jacketmyself."Allan hopes Mr. George will forgive his intrusion the more readilyon that account, and particularly that he will not lay aside hispipe, which, in his politeness, he has testifled some intention ofdoing. "You are very good, sir," returns the trooper. "As I knowby experience that it's not disagreeable to Miss Flite, and sinceit's equally agreeable to yourself--" and finishes the sentence byputting it between his lips again. Allan proceeds to tell him allhe knows about Jo, unto which the trooper listens with a graveface.

　　"And that's the lad, sir, is it?" he inquires, looking along theentry to where Jo stands staring up at the great letters on thewhitewashed front, which have no meaning in his eyes.

　　"That's he," says Allan. "And, Mr. George, I am in this difficultyabout him. I am unwilling to place him in a hospital, even if Icould procure him immediate admission, because I foresee that hewould not stay there many hours if he could be so much as gotthere. The same objection applies to a workhouse, supposing I hadthe patience to be evaded and shirked, and handed about from postto pillar in trying to get him into one, which is a system that Idon't take kindly to.""No man does, sir," returns Mr. George.

　　"I am convinced that he would not remain in either place, becausehe is possessed by an extraordinary terror of this person whoordered him to keep out of the way; in his ignorance, he believesthis person to be everywhere, and cognizant of everything.""I ask your pardon, sir," says Mr. George. "But you have notmentioned that party's name. Is it a secret, sir?""The boy makes it one. But his name is Bucket.""Bucket the detective, sir?""The same man.""The man is known to me, sir," returns the trooper after blowingout a cloud of smoke and squaring his chest, "and the boy is so farcorrect that he undoubtedly is a--rum customer." Mr. George smokeswith a profound meaning after this and surveys Miss Flite insilence.

　　"Now, I wish Mr. Jarndyce and Miss Summerson at least to know thatthis Jo, who tells so strange a story, has reappeared, and to haveit in their power to speak with him if they should desire to do so.

　　Therefore I want to get him, for the present moment, into any poorlodging kept by decent people where he would be admitted. Decentpeople and Jo, Mr. George," says Allan, following the direction ofthe trooper's eyes along the entry, "have not been much acquainted,as you see. Hence the difficulty. Do you happen to know any onein this neighbourhood who would receive him for a while on mypaying for him beforehand?"As he puts the question, he becomes aware of a dirty-faced littleman standing at the trooper's elbow and looking up, with an oddlytwisted figure and countenance, into the trooper's face. After afew more puffs at his pipe, the trooper looks down askant at thelittle man, and the little man winks up at the trooper.

　　"Well, sir," says Mr. George, "I can assure you that I wouldwillingiy be knocked on the head at any time if it would be at allagreeable to Miss Summerson, and consequently I esteem it aprivilege to do that young lady any service, however small. We arenaturally in the vagabond way here, sir, both myself and Phil. Yousee what the place is. You are welcome to a quiet corner of it forthe boy if the same would meet your views. No charge made, exceptfor rations. We are not in a flourishing state of circumstanceshere, sir. We are liable to be tumbled out neck and crop at amoment's notice. However, sir, such as the place is, and so longas it lasts, here it is at your service."With a comprehensive wave of his pipe, Mr. George places the wholebuilding at his visitor's disposal.

　　"I take it for granted, sir," he adds, "you being one of themedical staff, that there is no present infection about thisunfortunate subject?"Allan is quite sure of it.

　　"Because, sir," says Mr. George, shaking his head sorrowfully, "wehave had enough of that."His tone is no less sorrowfully echoed by his new acquaintance.

　　'Still I am bound to tell you," observes Allan after repeating hisformer assurance, "that the boy is deplorably low and reduced andthat he may be--I do not say that he is--too far gone to recover.""Do you consider him in present danger, sir?" inquires the trooper.

　　"Yes, I fear so.""Then, sir," returns the trooper in a decisive manner, "it appearsto me--being naturally in the vagabond way myself--that the soonerhe comes out of the street, the better. You, Phil! Bring him in!"Mr. Squod tacks out, all on one side, to execute the word ofcommand; and the trooper, having smoked his pipe, lays it by. Jois brought in. He is not one of Mrs. Pardiggle's TockahoopoIndians; he is not one of Mrs. Jellyby's lambs, being whollyunconnected with Borrioboola-Gha; he is not softened by distanceand unfamiliarity; he is not a genuine foreign-grown savage; he isthe ordinary home-made article. Dirty, ugly, disagreeable to allthe senses, in body a common creature of the common streets, onlyin soul a heathen. Homely filth begrimes him, homely parasitesdevour him, homely sores are in him, homely rags are on him; nativeignorance, the growth of English soil and climate, sinks hisimmortal nature lower than the beasts that perish. Stand forth,Jo, in uncompromising colours! From the sole of thy foot to thecrown of thy head, there is nothing interesting about thee.

　　He shuffles slowly into Mr. George's gallery and stands huddledtogether in a bundle, looking all about the floor. He seems toknow that they have an inclination to shrink from him, partly forwhat he is and partly for what he has caused. He, too, shrinksfrom them. He is not of the same order of things, not of the sameplace in creation. He is of no order and no place, neither of thebeasts nor of humanity.

　　"Look here, Jo!" says Allan. "This is Mr. George."Jo searches the floor for some time longer, then looks up for amoment, and then down again.

　　"He is a kind friend to you, for he is going to give you lodgingroom here."Jo makes a scoop with one hand, which is supposed to be a bow.

　　After a little more consideration and some backing and changing ofthe foot on which he rests, he mutters that he is "wery thankful.""You are quite safe here. All you have to do at present is to beobedient and to get strong. And mind you tell us the truth here,whatever you do, Jo.""Wishermaydie if I don't, sir," says Jo, reverting to his favouritedeclaration. "I never done nothink yit, but wot you knows on, toget myself into no trouble. I never was in no other trouble atall, sir, 'sept not knowin' nothink and starwation.""I believe it, now attend to Mr. George. I see he is going tospeak to you.""My intention merely was, sir," observes Mr. George, amazinglybroad and upright, "to point out to him where he can lie down andget a thorough good dose of sleep. Now, look here." As thetrooper speaks, he conducts them to the other end of the galleryand opens one of the little cabins. "There you are, you see! Hereis a mattress, and here you may rest, on good behaviour, as long asMr., I ask your pardon, sir"--he refers apologetically to the cardAllan has given him--"Mr. Woodcourt pleases. Don't you be alarmedif you hear shots; they'll be aimed at the target, and not you.

　　Now, there's another thing I would recommend, sir," says thetrooper, turning to his visitor. "Phil, come here!"Phil bears down upon them according to his usual tactics. "Here isa man, sir, who was found, when a baby, in the gutter.

　　Consequently, it is to be expected that he takes a natural interestin this poor creature. You do, don't you, Phil?""Certainly and surely I do, guv'ner," is Phil's reply.

　　"Now I was thinking, sir," says Mr. George in a martial sort ofconfidence, as if he were giving his opinion in a council of war ata drum-head, "that if this man was to take him to a bath and was tolay out a few shillings in getting him one or two coarse articles--""Mr. George, my considerate friend," returns Allan, taking out hispurse, "it is the very favour I would have asked."Phil Squod and Jo are sent out immediately on this work ofimprovement. Miss Flite, quite enraptured by her success, makesthe best of her way to court, having great fears that otherwise herfriend the Chancellor may be uneasy about her or may give thejudgment she has so long expected in her absence, and observing"which you know, my dear physician, and general, after so manyyears, would be too absurdly unfortunate!" Allan takes theopportunity of going out to procure some restorative medicines, andobtaining them near at hand, soon returns to find the trooperwalking up and down the gallery, and to fall into step and walkwith him.

　　"I take it, sir," says Mr. George, "that you know Miss Summersonpretty well?"Yes, it appears.

　　"Not related to her, sir?"No, it appears.

　　"Excuse the apparent curiosity," says Mr. George. "It seemed to meprobable that you might take more than a common interest in thispoor creature because Miss Summerson had taken that unfortunateinterest in him. 'Tis MY case, sir, I assure you.""And mine, Mr. George."The trooper looks sideways at Allan's sunburnt ch............