She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. After all, what could happen? He was looking at her very hard and earnestly. "What has caused this quarrel, Thames?" asked the little girl, anxiously. ‘Tell me, my boy. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. ’ ‘But what do you want it for, miss?’ ‘But to protect myself.
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