Alone in London

 By Hesba Stretton

 Author of "Jessica's First Prayer, " "Little Meg's Children, " etc. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER

 I. NOT ALONE

 II. WAIFS AND STRAYS

 III. A LITTLE PEACEMAKER

 IV. OLD OLIVER'S MASTER

 V. FORSAKEN AGAIN

 VI. THE GRASSHOPPER A BURDEN

 VII. THE PRINCE OF LIFE

 VIII. NO PIPE FOR OLD OLIVER

 IX. A NEW BROOM AND A CROSSING

 X. HIGHLY RESPECTABLE

 XI. AMONG THIEVES

 XII. TONY'S WELCOME

 XIII. NEW BOOTS

 XIV. IN HOSPITAL

 XV. TONY'S FUTURE PROSPECTS

 XVI. A BUD FADING

 XVII. A VERY DARK SHADOW

 XVIII. NO ROOM FOR DOLLY

 XIX. THE GOLDEN CITY

 XX. A FRESH DAY DAWNS

 XXI. POLLY

CHAPTER I. 

NOT ALONE. 

It had been a close and sultry day--one of the hottest of thedog-days--even out in the open country, where the dusky green leaves hadnever stirred upon their stems since the sunrise, and where the birds hadfound themselves too languid for any songs beyond a faint chirp now andthen. All day long the sun had shone down steadily upon the streets ofLondon, with a fierce glare and glowing heat, until the barefootedchildren had felt the dusty pavement burn under their tread almost aspainfully as the icy pavement had frozen their naked feet in the winter. In the parks, and in every open space, especially about the cool splashof the fountains at Charing Cross, the people, who had escaped from thecrowded and unventilated back streets, basked in the sunshine, or soughtevery corner where a shadow could be found. But in the alleys and slumsthe air was heavy with heat and dust, and thick vapours floated up anddown, charged with sickening smells from the refuse of fish andvegetables decaying in the gutters. Overhead the small, straight strip ofsky was almost white, and the light, as it fell, seemed to quiver withthe burden of its own burning heat. 

Out of one of the smaller thoroughfares lying between Holborn and theStrand, there opens a narrow alley, not more than six or seven feetacross, with high buildings on each side. In the most part the groundfloors consist of small shops; for the alley is not a blind one, butleads from the thoroughfare to another street, and forms, indeed, a shortcut to it, pretty often used. These shops are not of any size orimportance--a greengrocer's, with a somewhat scanty choice of vegetablesand fruit, a broker's, displaying queer odds and ends of household goods, two or three others, and at the end farthest from the chief thoroughfare, but nearest to the quiet and respectable street beyond, a verymodest-looking little shop-window, containing a few newspapers, somerather yellow packets of stationery, and two or three books of ballads. Above the door was painted, in very small, dingy letters, the words, "James Oliver, News Agent. "

The shop was even smaller, in proportion, than its window. After twocustomers had entered--if such an event could ever come to pass--it wouldhave been almost impossible to find room for a third. Along the end ran alittle counter, with a falling flap by which admission could be gained tothe living-room lying behind the shop. This evening the flap was down--acertain sign that James Oliver, the news agent, had some guest within, for otherwise there would have been no occasion to lessen the scanty sizeof the counter. The room beyond was dark, very dark indeed, for the timeof day; for, though the evening was coming on, and the sun was hasteningto go down at last, it had not yet ceased to shine brilliantly upon thegreat city. But inside James Oliver's house the gas was already lightedin a little steady flame, which never flickered in the still, hot air, though both door and window were wide open. For there was a window, though it was easy to overlook it, opening into a passage four feet wide, which led darkly up into a still closer and hotter court, lying in thevery core of the maze of streets. As the houses were four stories high, it is easy to understand that very little sunlight could penetrate toOliver's room behind his shop, and that even at noonday it was twilightthere. This room was of a better size altogether than a stranger mighthave supposed, having two or three queer little nooks and recessesborrowed from the space belonging to the adjoining house; for thebuildings were old, and had probably been one large dwelling in formertimes. It was plainly the only apartment the owner had; and all itsarrangements were those of a man living alone, for there was somethingalmost desolate about the look of the scanty furniture, though it wasclean and whole. There had been a fire, but it had died out, and thecoals were black in the grate, while the kettle still sat upon the topbar with a melancholy expression of neglect about it. 

James Oliver himself had placed his chair near to the open door, where hecould keep his eye upon the shop--a needless precaution, as at this hourno customers ever turned into it. He was an old man, and seemed very oldand infirm by the dim light. He was thin and spare, with that peculiarspareness which results from the habit of always eating less than onecan. His teeth, which had never had too much to do, had gone some yearsago, and his cheeks fell in rather deeply. A fine network of wrinklespuckered about the corners of his eyes and mouth. He stooped a good deal, and moved about with the slowness and deliberation of age. Yet his facewas very pleasant--a cheery, gentle, placid face, lighted up with a smilenow and then, but with sufficient rareness to make it the more welcomeand the more noticed when it came. 

Old Oliver had a visitor this hot evening, a neat, small, dapper woman, with a little likeness to himself, who had been putting his room torights, and looking to the repairs needed by his linen. She was justreplacing her needle, cotton, and buttons in an old-fashioned housewife, which she always carried in her pocket, and was then going to put on herblack silk bonnet and coloured shawl, before bidding him goodbye. 

"Eh, Charlotte, " said Oliver, after drawing a long and toilsome breath, "what would I give to be a-top of the Wrekin, seeing the sun set thisevening! Many and many's the summer afternoon we've spent there when wewere young, and all of us alive. Dost remember how many a mile of countrywe could see all round us, and how fresh the air blew across thethousands of green fields? Why, I saw Snowdon once, more than sixty milesoff, when my eyes were young and it was a clear sunset. I always think ofthe top of the Wrekin when I read of Moses going up Mount Pisgah andseeing all the land about him, north and south, east and west. Eh, lass!there's a change in us all now!"

"Ah! it's like another world!" said the old woman, shaking her headslowly. "All the folks I used to sew for at Aston, and Uppington, andOverlehill, they'd mostly be gone or dead by now. It wouldn't seem likethe same place at all. And now there's none but you and me left, brotherJames. Well, well! its lonesome, growing old. "

"Yes, lonesome, yet not exactly lonesome, " replied old Oliver, in adreamy voice. "I'm growing dark a little, and just a trifle deaf, and Idon't feel quite myself like I used to do; but I've got something Ididn't use to have. Sometimes of an evening, before I've lit the gas, I've a sort of a feeling as if I could almost see the Lord Jesus, andhear him talking to me. He looks to me something like our eldest brother, him that died when we were little. Charlotte, thee remembers him? Awhite, quiet, patient face, with a smile like the sun shining behindclouds. Well, whether it's only a dream or no I cannot tell, but there'sa face looks at me, or seems to look at me out of the dusk; and I thinkto myself, maybe the Lord Jesus says, 'Old Oliver's lonesome down therein the dark, and his eyes growing dim. I'll make myself half-plain tohim. ' Then he comes and sits here with me for a little while. "

"Oh, that's all fancy as comes with you living quite alone, " saidCharlotte, sharply. 

"Perhaps so! perhaps so!" answered the old man, with a meek sigh; "but Ishould be very lonesome without that. "

They did not speak again until Charlotte had given a final shake to thebed in the corner, upon which her bonnet and shawl had been lying. Sheput them on neatly and primly; and when she was ready to go she spokeagain in a constrained and mysterious manner. 

"Heard nothing of Susan, I suppose?" she said. 

"Not a word, " answered old Oliver, sadly. "It's the only trouble I'vegot. That were the last passion I ever went into, and I was hot andhasty, I know. "

"So you always used to be at times, " said his sister. 

"Ah! but that passion was the worst of all, " he went on, speakingslowly. "I told her if she married young Raleigh, she should never darkenmy doors again--never again. And she took me at my word though she mighthave known it was nothing but father's hot temper. Darken my doors! Why, the brightest sunshine I could have 'ud be to see her come smiling intomy shop, like she used to do at home. "

"Well, I think Susan ought to have humbled herself, " said Charlotte. "It's going on for six years now, and she's had time enough to see herfolly. Do you know where she is?"

"I know nothing about her, " he answered, shaking his head sorrowfully. "Young Raleigh was wild, very wild, and that was my objection to him;but I didn't mean Susan to take me at my word. I shouldn't speak sohasty and hot now. "

"And to think. I'd helped to bring her up so genteel, and with suchpretty manners!" cried the old woman, indignantly. "She might have doneso much better with her cleverness too. Such a milliner as she might haveturned out! Well good-bye, brother James, and don't go having any more ofthose visions; they're not wholesome for you. "

"I should be very lonesome without them, " answered Oliver. "Good-bye, Charlotte, good-bye, and God bless you. Come again as soon as you can. "

He went with her to the door, and stayed to watch her along the quietalley, till she turned into the street. Then, with a last nod to the backof her bonnet, as she passed out of his sight, he returned slowly intohis dark shop, put up the flap of the counter, and retreated to thedarker room within. Hot as it was, he fancied it was growing a littlechilly with the coming of the night, and he drew on his old coat, andthrew a handkerchief over his white head, and then sat down in the dusk, looking out into his shop and the alley beyond it. He must have falleninto a doze after a while, being overcome with the heat, and lulled bythe constant hum of the streets, which reached his dull ear in a softenedmurmur; for at length he started up almost in a fright, and found thatcomplete darkness had fallen upon him suddenly, as it seemed to him. Achurch clock was striking nine, and his shop was not closed yet. He wentout hurriedly to put the shutters up. 

CHAPTER II. 

WAIFS AND STRAYS. 

In the shop it was not yet so dark but that old Oliver could see his wayout with the shutters, which during the day occupied a place behind thedoor. He lifted the flap of the counter, and was about to go on with hisusual business, when a small voice, trembling a little, and speaking fromthe floor at his very feet, caused him to pause suddenly. 

"Please, rere's a little girl here, " said the voice. 

Oliver stooped down to bring his eyes nearer to the ground, until hecould make out the indistinct outline of the figure of a child, seated onhis shop floor, and closely hugging a dog in her arms. Her face lookedsmall to him; it was pale, as if she had been crying quietly, and thoughhe could not see them, a large tear stood on each of her cheeks. 

"What little girl are you?" he asked, almost timidly. 

"Rey called me Dolly, " answered the child. 

"Haven't you any other name?" inquired old Oliver

"Nosing else but Poppet, " she said; "rey call me Dolly sometimes, andPoppet sometimes. Ris is my little dog, Beppo. "

She introduced the dog by pushing its nose into his hand, and Beppocomplacently wagged his tail and licked the old man's withered fingers. 

"What brings you here in my shop, my little woman?" asked Oliver. 

"Mammy brought me, " she said, with a stifled sob; "she told me run inrere, Dolly, and stay till mammy comes back, and be a good girl always. Am I a good girl?"

"Yes, yes, " he answered, soothingly; "you're a very good little girl, I'msure; and mother 'ill come back soon, very soon. Let us go to the door, and look for her. "

He took her little hand in his own; such a little hand it felt, that hecould not help tightening his fingers fondly over it; and then they stoodfor a few minutes on the door-sill, while old Oliver looked anxiously upand down the alley. At the greengrocer's next door there flared a brightjet of gas, and the light shone well into the deepening darkness. Butthere was no woman in sight, and the only person about was a ragged boy, barefoot and bareheaded with no clothing but a torn pair of trousers, very jagged about the ankles, and a jacket through which his thinshoulders displayed themselves. He was lolling in the lowest window-sillof the house opposite, and watched Oliver and the little girl lookingabout them with sundry signs of interest and amusement. 

"She ain't nowhere in sight, " he called across to them after a while, "nor won't be, neither, I'll bet you. You're looking out for the littleun's mother, ain't you, old master?"

"Yes, " answered Oliver; "do you know anything about her, my boy?"

"Nothink, " he said, with a laugh; "only she looked as if she were up tosome move, and as I'd nothink particular on hand, I just followed her. She was somethink like my mother, as is dead, not fat or rosy, you know, with a bit of a bruise about her eye, as if somebody had been fightingwith her. I thought there'd be a lark when she left the little 'un inyour shop, so I just stopped to see. She bolted as if the bobbies wereafter her. "

"How long ago?" asked Oliver, anxiously. 

"The clocks had just gone eight, " he answered; "I've been watching foryou ever since. "

"Why! that's a full hour ago, " said the old man, looking wistfully downthe alley; "it's time she was come back again for her little girl. "

[Illustration: THE LITTLE STRANGER. ]

But there was no symptom of anybody coming to claim the little girl, whostood very quietly at his side, one hand holding the dog fast by his ear, and the other still lying in Oliver's grasp. The boy hopped on one footacross the narrow alley, and looked up with bright, eager eyes into theold man's face. 

"I say, " he said, earnestly, "don't you go to give her up to the p'lice. They'd take her to the house, and that's worse than the jail. Bless yer!they'd never take up a little thing like that to jail for a wagrant. Youjust give her to me, and I'll take care of her. It 'ud be easy enough tofind victuals for such a pretty little thing as her. You give her up tome, I say. "

"What's your name?" asked Oliver, clasping the little hand tighter, "andwhere do you come from?"

"From nowhere particular, " answered the boy; "and my name's Antony; Tony, for short. I used to have another name; mother told it me afore she died, but it's gone clean out o' my head. Tony I am, anyhow, and you can callme by it, if you choose. "

"How old are you, Tony?" inquired Oliver, still lingering on thethreshold, and looking up and down with his dim eyes. 

"Bless yer! I don't know, " replied Tony; "I weren't much bigger norher when mother died, and I've found myself ever since. I never hadany father. "

"Found yourself!" repeated the old man, absently. 

"Ah, it's not bad in the summer, " said Tony, more earnestly than before:"and I could find for the little 'un easy enough. I sleep anywhere, inCovent Garden sometimes, and the parks--anywhere as the p'lice 'ill letme alone. You won't go to give her up to them p'lice, will you now, andshe so pretty?"

He spoke in a beseeching tone, and old Oliver looked down upon himthrough his spectacles, with a closer survey than he had given to himbefore. The boy's face was pale and meagre, with an unboyish sharpnessabout it, though he did not seem more than nine or ten years old. Hisglittering eyes were filled with tears, and his colourless lips quivered. He wiped away the tears roughly upon the ragged sleeve of his jacket. 

"I never were such a baby before, " said Tony, "only she is such a nicelittle thing, and such a tiny little 'un. You'll keep her, master, won'tyou? or give her up to me?"

"Ay, ay! I'll take care of her, " answered Oliver, "till her mother comesback for her. She'll come pretty soon, I know. But she wants her suppernow, doesn't she?"

He stooped down to bring his face nearer to the child's, and she raisedher hand to it, and stroked his cheek with her warm, soft fingers. 

"Beppo wants his supper, too, " she said, in a clear, shrill, littlevoice, which penetrated easily through old Oliver's deafened hearing. 

"And Beppo shall have some supper as well as the little woman, " heanswered. "I'll put the shutters up now, and leave the door ajar, and thegas lit for mother to see when she comes back; and if mother shouldn'tcome back to night, the little woman will sleep in my bed, won't she?"

"Dolly's to be a good girl till mammy comes back, " said the child, plaintively, and holding harder by Beppo's ear. 

"Let me put the shutters up, master, " cried Tony, eagerly; "I won'tcharge you nothink, and I'll just look round in the morning to see howyou're getting along. She is such a very little thing. "

The shutters were put up briskly, and then Tony took a long, farewellgaze of the old man and the little child, but he could not offer to toucheither of them. He glanced at his hands, and Oliver did the same; butthey both shook their heads. 

"I'll have a wash in the morning afore I come, " he said, noddingresolutely; "good-bye, guv'ner; goodbye, little 'un. "

Old Oliver went in, leaving his door ajar, and his gas lit, as he hadsaid. He fed the hungry child with bread and butter, and used up hishalf-pennyworth of milk, which he bought for himself every evening. Thenhe lifted her on to his knee, with Beppo in her arms, and sat for a longwhile waiting. The little head nodded, and Dolly sat up, unsteadilystriving hard to keep awake; but at last she let Beppo drop to the floor, while she herself fell upon the old man's breast, and lay there withoutmoving. It chimed eleven o'clock at last, and Oliver knew it was of nouse to watch any longer. 

He managed to undress his little charge with gentle, though tremblinghands, and then he laid her down on his bed, putting his only pillowagainst the wall to make a soft nest for the tender and sleepy child. Sheroused herself for a minute, and stared about her, gazing steadily, withlarge, tearful eyes, into his face. Then as he sat down on the bedsteadbeside her, to comfort her as well as he could, she lifted herself up, and knelt down, with her folded hands laid against his shoulder. 

"Dolly vewy seepy, " she lisped, "but must say her prayers always. "

"What are your prayers, my dear?" he asked. 

"On'y God bless gan-pa, and father, and mammy, and poor Beppo, and makeme a good girl, " murmured the drowsy voice, as Dolly closed her eyesagain, and fell off into a deep sleep the next moment. 

CHAPTER III. 

A LITTLE PEACEMAKER. 

It was a very strange event which had befallen old Oliver. He went backto his own chair, where he smoked his Broseley pipe every night, and sankdown in it, rubbing his legs softly; for it was a long time since he hadnursed any child, and even Dolly's small weight was a burden to him. Hertiny clothes were scattered up and down, and there was no one besidehimself to gather them together, and fold them straight. In shaking outher frock a letter fell from it, and Oliver picked it up wonderingwhoever it could be for. It was directed to himself, "Mr. James Oliver, News-agent, " and he broke the seal with eager expectation. The contentswere these, written in a handwriting which he knew at first sight to behis daughter's:--

"DEAR FATHER, "I am very very sorry I ever did anything to make you angry with me. Thisis your poor Susan's little girl, as is come to be a little peacemakerbetwixt you and me. I'm certain sure you'll never turn her away from yourdoor. I'm going down to Portsmouth for three days, because he listed fivemonths ago, and his regiment's ordered out to India, and he sails onFriday. So I thought I wouldn't take my little girl to be in the way, andI said I'll leave her with father till I come back, and her pretty littleways will soften him towards me, and we'll live all together in peace andplenty till his regiment comes home again, poor fellow. For he's verygood to me when he's not in liquor, which is seldom for a man. Please doforgive me for pity's sake, and for Christ's sake, if I'm worthy to usehis name, and do take care of my little girl till I come home to you bothon Friday, From your now dutiful daughter, "POOR SUSAN. "

The tears rolled fast down old Oliver's cheeks as he read this letterthrough twice, speaking the words half aloud to himself. Why! this washis own little grandchild, then--his very own! And no doubt Susan hadchristened her Dorothy, after her own mother, his dear wife, who had diedso many years ago. Dolly was the short for Dorothy, and in early times hehad often called his wife by that name. He had turned his gas off andlighted a candle, and now he took it up and went to the bedside to lookat his new treasure. The tiny face lying upon his pillow was rosy withsleep, and the fair curly hair was tossed about in pretty disorder. Hisspectacles grew very dim indeed, and he was obliged to polish themcarefully on his cotton handkerchief before he could see hisgrand-daughter plainly enough. Then he touched her dimpled cheektremblingly with the end of his finger, and sobbed out, "Bless her! blessher!" He returned to his chair, his head shaking a good deal before hecould regain his composure; and it was not until he had kindled his pipe, and was smoking it, with his face turned towards the sleeping child, thathe felt at all like himself again. 

"Dear Lord!" he said, half aloud, between the whiffs of his pipe, "dearLord! how very good thou art to me! Didst thee not say, 'I'll not leavethee comfortless, I'll come to thee?' I know what that means, bless thyname; and the good Spirit has many a time brought me comfort, and cheeredmy heart. I know thou didst not leave me alone before. No, no! that wasfar from thee, Lord. Alone!--why, thou'rt always here; and now there'sthe little lass as well. Lonesome!--they don't know thee, Lord, and theydon't know me. Thou'rt here, with the little lass and me. Yes, yes, --yes. "

He murmured the word "yes" in a tone of contentment over and over again, until, the pipe being finished, he prepared for sleep also. But no sleepcame to the old man. He was too full of thought, and too fearful of thechild waking in the night and wanting something. The air was close andhot, and now and then a peal of thunder broke overhead; but a profoundpeace and tranquillity, slightly troubled by his new joy, held possessionof him. His grandchild was there, and his daughter was coming back to himin three days. 

Oh, how he would welcome her! He would not let her speak one word of herwilfulness and disobedience, and the long, cruel neglect which had lefthim in ignorance of where she lived, and what had become of her. It waspartly his fault, for having been too hard upon her, and too hasty andhot-tempered. He had learnt better since then. 

CHAPTER IV. 

OLD OLIVER'S MASTER. 

Very early in the morning, before the tardy daylight could creep into thedarkened room, old Oliver was up and busy. He had been in the habit ofdoing for himself, as he called it, ever since his daughter had forsakenhim, and he was by nature fastidiously clean and neat. But now therewould be additional duties for him during the next three days; for therewould be Dolly to wash, and dress, and provide breakfast for. Every fewminutes he stole a look at her lying still asleep; and as soon as hediscovered symptoms of awaking, he hastily lifted Beppo on to the bed, that her opening eyes should be greeted by some familiar sight. Shestretched out her wonderful little hands, and caught hold of the dog'srough head before venturing to lift her eyelids, while Oliver looked onin speechless delight. At length she ventured to peep slyly at him, andthen addressed herself to Beppo. 

"What am I to call ris funny old man, Beppo?" she asked. 

"I am your grandpa, my darling, " said Oliver, in his softest voice. 

"Are you God-bless-gan-pa?" inquired Dolly, sitting up on her pillow, andstaring very hard with her blue eyes into his wrinkled face. 

"Yes, I am, " he answered, looking at her anxiously. 

"Dolly knows, " she said, counting upon her little fingers; "rere'sfather, and mammy, and Beppo; and now rere's gan-pa. Dolly'll get upnow. "

She flung her arms suddenly about his neck and kissed him, while oldOliver trembled with intense joy. It was quite a marvel to him how shehelped him to dress her, laughing merrily at the strange mistakes he madein putting on her clothes the wrong side before; and when he assured herthat her mother would come back very soon, she seemed satisfied to put upwith any passing inconvenience. The shop, with its duties, and thenecessity of getting in his daily stock of newspapers, entirely slippedhis memory; and he was only recalled to it by a very loud rapping at thedoor as he was pouring out Dolly's breakfast. To his great surprise hediscovered that he had forgotten to take down his shutters, though it waspast the hour when his best customers passed by. 

The person knocking proved to be none other than Tony, who greeted theold man's appearance with a prolonged whistle, and a grave andreproachful stare. 

"Come, " he said, in a tone of remonstrance, "this'll never do, you know. Business is business, and must be minded. You pretty nearly frightenedme into fits; anybody could have knocked me down with a straw when I seethe shutters up. How is she?"

"She's very well, thank you, my boy, " answered Oliver, meekly. 

"Mother not turned up, I guess?" said Tony. 

"No; she comes on Friday, " he replied. 

Tony winked, and put his tongue into his cheek; but he gave utterance tono remark until after the shutters were in their place. Then he surveyedhimself as well as he could, with an air of satisfaction. His face andhands were clean, and his skin looked very white through the holes in histattered clothes; even his feet, except for an unavoidable under surfaceof dust, were unsoiled. His jacket and trousers appeared somewhat moretorn than the evening before; but they bore every mark of having beenwashed also. 

"Washed myself early in the morning, afore the bobbies were much about, "remarked Tony, "in the fountains at Charing Cross; but I hadn't time toget my rags done, so I did 'em down under the bridge, when the tide weregoing down; but I could only give 'em a bit of a swill and a ring out. Anyhow, I'm a bit cleaner this morning than last night, master. "

"To be sure, to be sure, " answered Oliver. "Come in, my boy, and I'llgive you a bit of breakfast with her and me. "

"You haven't got sich a thing as a daily paper, have you?" asked Tony, ina patronizing tone. 

"Not to-day's paper, I'm afraid, " he said. 

"I'm afraid not, " continued Tony; "overslept yourself, eh? Not as I canread myself; but there are folks going by as can, and might p'raps buyone here as well as anywhere else. Shall I run and get 'em for you, nowI'm on my legs?"

Oliver looked questioningly at the boy, who returned a frank, honestgaze, and said, "Honour bright!" as he held out his hand for the money. There was some doubt in the old man's mind after Tony had disappeared asto whether he had not done a very foolish thing; but he soon forgot itwhen he returned to the breakfast-table; and long before he himself couldhave reached the place and returned, Tony was back again with his rightnumber of papers. 

Before many minutes Tony was sitting upon an old box at a little distancefrom the table, where Oliver sat with his grandchild. A basin of coffeeand a large hunch of bread rested upon his knees, and Beppo was sniffinground him with a doubtful air. Dolly was shy in this strange company, and ate her breakfast with a sedate gravity which filled both hercompanions with astonishment and admiration. When the meal was finished, old Oliver took his daughter's letter from his waistcoat pocket and readit aloud to Tony, who listened with undivided interest. 

"Then she's your own little 'un, " he said, with a sigh of disappointment. "You'll never give her up to me, if you get tired of her, --nor to thep'lice neither, " he added, with a brightening face. 

"No, no, no!" answered Oliver, emphatically. "Besides, her mother'scoming on Friday. I wouldn't give her up for all the world, bless her!"

"And he's 'listed!" said Tony, in a tone of envy. "They wouldn't take meyet a while, if I offered to go. But who's that she speaks of?--'forChrist's sake, if I am worthy to use his name. ' Who is he?"

"Don't you know?" asked Oliver. 

"No, never heard tell of him before, " he answered. "Is he any friend o'yours?" [A]

[Footnote A: It may be necessary to assure some readers that thisignorance is not exaggerated. The City Mission Reports, and similarrecords, show that such cases are too frequent. ]

"Ay!" said Oliver; "he's my only friend, my best friend. And he's mymaster, besides. "

"And she thinks he'd be angry if you turned the little girl away?"pursued Tony. 

"Yes, yes; he'd be very angry, " said old Oliver, thoughtfully; "it 'udgrieve him to his heart. Why, he's always loved little children, andnever had them turned away from himself, whatever he was doing. If shehadn't been my own little girl, I daren't have turned her out of mydoors. No, no, dear Lord, thee knows as I'd have taken care of her, forthy sake. "

He spoke absently, in a low voice, as though talking to some personwhom Tony could not see, and the boy was silent a minute or two, thinking busily. 

"How long have you worked for that master o' yours?" he asked, at last. 

"Not very long, " replied Oliver, regretfully. "I used to fancy I wasworking for him years and years ago; but, dear me! it was poor sorto'work; and now I can't do very much. Only he knows how old I am, and hedoesn't care so that I love him, which I do, Tony. "

"I should think so!" said the boy, falling again into busy thought, fromwhich he aroused himself by getting up from his box, and rubbing hisfingers through his wet and tangled hair. 

"He takes to children and little 'uns?" he said, in a questioning tone. 

"Ay, dearly!" answered old Oliver. 

"I reckon he'd scarcely take me for a man yet, " said Tony, at the sametime drawing himself up to his full height; "though I don't know as Ishould care to work for him. I'd rather have a crossing, and be my ownmaster. But if I get hard up, do you think he'd take to me, if you spokea word for me?"

"Are you sure you don't know anything about him?" asked Oliver. 

"Not I; how should I?" answered Tony. "Why, you don't s'pose as I knowall the great folks in London, though I've seen sights and sights of 'emriding about in their carriages. I told you I weren't much bigger nor herthere when mother died, and I've picked up my living up and down thestreets anyhow, and other lads have helped me on, till I can help 'em onnow. It don't cost much to keep a boy on the streets. There's nothink topay for coals, or rent, or beds, or furniture, or anythink; only yourvictuals, and a rag now and then. All I want's a broom and a crossing, and then shouldn't I get along just? But I don't know how to get 'em. "

"Perhaps the Lord Jesus would give them to you, if you'd ask him, " saidOliver, earnestly. 

"Who's he?" inquired Tony, with an eager face. 

"Him--Christ. It's his other name, " answered the old man. 

"Ah! I see, " he said, nodding. "Well, if I can't get 'em myself, I'll think about it. He'll want me to work for him, you know. Wheredoes he live?"

"I'll tell you all about him, if you'll come to see me, " replied Oliver. 

"Well, " said the boy, "I'll just look in after Friday, and see if thelittle 'un's mother's come back. Goodbye, --good-bye, little miss. "

He could take Dolly's hand into his own this morning, and he looked downcuriously at it, --a small, rosy, dimpled hand, such as he had never seenbefore so closely. A lump rose in his throat, and his eyelids smartedwith tears again. It was such a little thing, such a pretty little thing, he said to himself, covering it fondly with his other hand. There was nofear that Tony would forget to come back to old Oliver's house. 

"Thank you for my breakfast, " he said, with a choking voice; "only ifI do come to see you, it'll be to see her again--not for anythink asI can get. "

CHAPTER V. 

FORSAKEN AGAIN. 

The next three days were a season of unmixed happiness to old Oliver. Thelittle child was so merry, yet withal so gentle and sweet-tempered, thatshe kept him in a state of unwearied delight, without any alloy ofanxiety or trouble. She trotted at his side with short, runningfootsteps, when he went out early in the morning to fetch his daily stockof newspapers. She watched him set his room tidy, and made believe tohelp him by dusting the legs and seats of his two chairs. She stood withfolded hands and serious face, looking on as he was busy with hiscooking. When she was not thus engaged she played contentedly with Beppo, prattling to him in such a manner, that Oliver often forgot what he wasabout while listening to her. She played with him, too, frolicsome littlegames of hide-and-seek, in which he grew as eager as herself; andsometimes she stole his spectacles, or handkerchief, or anything shecould lay her mischievous fingers upon to hide away in some unthought-ofspot; while her shrewd, cunning little face put on an expression ofprofound gravity as old Oliver sought everywhere for them. 

As Friday evening drew near, the old man's gladness took a shade ofanxiety. His daughter was coming home to him, and his heart was full ofunutterable joy and gratitude; but he did not know exactly how theyshould go on in the future. He was averse to change; yet this littlehouse, with its single room, to which he had moved when she forsook him, was too scanty in its accommodation. He had made up a rude sort of bedfor himself under the counter in the shop, and was quite ready to give uphis own to Susan and his little love, as he called Dolly; but would Susanlet him have his own way in this, and many other things? He provided asumptuous tea, and added a fresh salad to it from the greengrocer's nextdoor; but though he and Dolly waited and watched till long after thechild's bed-time, taking occasional snatches of bread and butter, stillSusan did not arrive. At length a postman entered the little shop with anoise which made Oliver's heart beat violently, and tossed a letter downupon the counter. He carried it to the door, where there was still lightenough to read it, and saw that it was in Susan's handwriting. 

"MY DEAR AND DEAREST FATHER, "My heart is almost broke, betwixt one thing and another. His regimentis to set sail immediate, and the colonel's lady has offered me veryhandsome wages to go out with her as lady's maid, her own havingdisappointed her at the last moment; which I could do very well, knowingthe dressmaking. He said, 'Do come, Susan, and I'll never get drunkagain, so help me God; and if you don't, I shall go to the badaltogether; for I do love you, Susan. ' I said, 'Oh my child!' And thecolonel's lady said, 'She's safe with her grandfather; and if he's agood man, as you say he is, he'll take the best of care of her. I'llgive you three pounds to send him from here, and we'll send more fromCalcutta. ' So they overpersuaded me, and there isn't even time to comeback to London, for we are going in a few hours. You'll take care of mylittle dear, I know, you and aunt Charlotte. I've sent a little box ofclothes for her by the railway, and what more she wants aunt Charlottewill see to, I'm sure, and do her mending, and see to her manners till Icome home. Oh! if I could only hear you say 'Susan, my dear, I forgiveyou, and love you almost as much as ever, ' I'd go with a lighter heart, and be almost glad to leave Dolly to be a comfort to you. She will be acomfort to you, though she is so little, I'm sure. Tell her mammy saysshe must be a good girl always till mammy comes back. A hundred thousandkisses for my dear father and my little girl. We shall come home as soonas ever we can; but I don't rightly know where India is. I think it's mybounden duty to go with him, as things have turned out. Pray God takecare of us all. 

"Your loving, sorrowful daughter, "SUSAN RALEIGH. "

CHAPTER VI. 

THE GRASSHOPPER A BURDEN. 

It was some time before the full meaning of Susan's letter penetratedto her father's brain; but when it did, he was not at first altogetherpained by it. True, it was both a grief and disappointment to thinkthat his daughter, instead of returning to him, was already on her wayacross the sea to a very distant land. But as this came slowly to hismind, there came also the thought that there would now be no one todivide with him the treasure committed to his charge. The little childwould belong to him alone. They might go on still, living as they haddone these last three days, and being all in all to one another. If hecould have chosen, his will would certainly have been for Susan toreturn to them; but, since he could not have his choice, he felt thatthere were some things which would be all the happier for him becauseof her absence. 

He put Dolly to bed, and then went out to shut up the shop for the night. As he carried in his feeble arms a single shutter at a time, he heardhimself hailed by a boy's voice, which was lowered to a low andmysterious whisper, and which belonged to Tony, who took the shutter outof his hands. 

"S'pose the mother turned up all right?" he said, pointing with his thumbthrough the half open door. 

"No, " answered Oliver. "I've had another letter from her, and she'sgone out to India with her husband, and left the little love to livealone with me. "

"But whatever'll the Master say to that?" inquired Tony. 

"What master?" asked old Oliver. 

"Him--Lord Jesus Christ. What'll he say to her leaving you and thelittle 'un again?" said Tony, with an eager face. 

"Oh! he says a woman ought to leave her father, and keep to her husband, "he answered, somewhat sadly. "It's all right, that is. "

"I s'pose he'll help you to take care of the little girl, " said Tony. 

"Ay will he; him and me, " replied old Oliver; "there's no fear of that. You never read the Testament, of course, my boy?"

"Can't read, I told you, " he answered. "But what's that?"

"A book all about him, the Lord Jesus, " said Oliver, "what he's done, andwhat he's willing to do for people. If you'll come of an evening, I'llread it aloud to you and my little love. She'll listen as quiet and goodas any angel. "

"I'll come to-morrow, " answered Tony, readily; and he lingered about thedoorway until he heard the old man inside fasten the bolts and locks, andsaw the light go out in the pane of glass over the door. Then hescampered noiselessly with his naked feet along the alley in thedirection of Covent Garden, where he purposed to spend the night, if leftundisturbed. 

Old Oliver went back into his room, where the tea-table was still setout for his Susan's welcome; but he had no heart to clear the thingsaway. A chill came over his spirit as his eye fell upon the preparationshe had made to give her such a cordial greeting, that she would know atonce he had forgiven her fully. He lit his pipe, and sat ponderingsorrowfully over all the changes that had happened to him since thoseold, far-away days when he was a boy, in the pleasant, fresh, healthyhomestead at the foot of the Wrekin. He felt all of a sudden how very oldhe was; a poor, infirm, hoary old man. His sight was growing dim even, and his hearing duller every day; he was sure of it. His limbs achedoftener, and he was earlier wearied in the evening; yet he could notsleep soundly at nights, as he had been used to do. But, worst of all, his memory was not half as good as it had been. Sometimes, of late, hehad caught himself reading a newspaper quite a fortnight old, and he hadnot found it out till he happened to see the date at the top. He couldnot recollect the names of people as he did once; for many of hiscustomers to whom he supplied the monthly magazines were obliged to tellhim their names and the book they wanted every time, before he couldremember them. And now there was this young child cast upon him to bethought of, and cared and worked for. It was very thoughtless andreckless of Susan! Suppose he should forget or neglect any of her tenderwants! Suppose his dull ear should grow too deaf to catch the prettywords she said when she asked for something! Suppose he should not seewhen the tears were rolling down her cheeks, and nobody would comforther! It might very easily be so. He was not the hale man he was whenSusan was just such another little darling, and he could toss her up tothe ceiling in his strong hands. It was as much as he could do to liftDolly on to his feeble knee, and nurse her quietly, not even giving her aride to market upon it; and how stiff he felt if she sat there long!

Old Oliver laid aside his pipe, and rested his worn face upon his hands, while the heavy tears came slowly and painfully to his eyes, andtrickled down his withered cheeks. His joy had fled, and his unmingledgladness had faded quite away. He was a very poor, very old man; and thelittle child was very, very young. What would become of them both, alonein London?

He did not know whether it was a voice speaking within himself in his ownheart, or words whispered very softly into his ear; but he heard a low, quiet, still, small voice, which said, "Even to your old age I am he, and even to hoar hairs I will carry you: I have made, and I will bear;even I will carry, and will deliver you. " And old Oliver answered, with asob, "Yes, Lord, yes!"

CHAPTER VII. 

THE PRINCE OF LIFE. 

In the new life which had now fairly begun for Oliver, it was partly ashe had foreseen; he was apt to forget many things, and he had a frettingconsciousness of this forgetfulness. When he was in the house playingwith Dolly, or reading to her, the shop altogether slipped away from hismemory, and he was only recalled to it by the loud knocking or shoutingof some customer in it. On the other hand, when he was sitting behind thecounter looking for news from India in the papers, news in which he wasalready profoundly concerned, though it was impossible that Susan couldyet have reached it, he grew so absorbed, that he did not know how thetime was passing by, and both he and his little grand-daughter werehungry before he had thought of getting ready any meal. He tried allkinds of devices for strengthening his failing memory; but in vain. Heeven forgot that he did forget; and when Dolly was laughing andfrolicking about him he grew a child again, and felt himself the happiestman in London. 

The person who took upon himself the heaviest weight of anxiety andresponsibility about Dolly was Tony, who began to make it his dailycustom to pass by the house at the hour when old Oliver ought to be goingfor his morning papers; and if he found no symptom of life about theplace, he did not leave off kicking and butting at the shop-door untilthe owner appeared. It was very much the same thing at night, when thetime for shutting up came; though it generally happened now that the boywas paying his friends an evening visit, and was therefore at hand to putup the shutters for Oliver. Tony could not keep away from the place. Though he felt a boy's contemptuous pity for the poor old man's decliningfaculties as regarded business, he had a very high veneration for hislearning. Nothing pleased him better than to sit upon the old box nearthe door, his elbows on his knees, and his chin upon his hands, whileOliver read aloud, with Dolly upon his knee, her curly hair and smallpretty features making a strange contrast to his white head and withered, hollow face. Tony, who had never had anything to love except a stray curor two, which he had always lost after a few days' friendship, felt as ifhe could have suffered himself to be put to death for either of thesetwo; while Beppo came in for a large share of his unclaimed affections. The chief subject of their reading was the life of the Master, who was sointimately dear to the heart of old Oliver. Tony was very eager to learnall he could of this great friend who did so much for the old man, andwho might perhaps be persuaded some day or other to take a little noticeof him, if he should fail to get a crossing for himself. Oliver, in hislong, unbroken solitude of six years, had fallen into a notion, amountingto a firm belief, that his Lord was not dead and far off, as most of theworld believed, but was a very present, living friend, always ready tolisten to the meanest of his words. He had a vague suspicion that hisfaith had got into a different course from that of most other people; andhe bore meekly the rebukes of his sister Charlotte for theunwholesomeness of his visions. But none the less, when he was alone, hetalked and prayed to, and spoke to Tony of this Master, as one who wasalways very near at hand. 

"I s'pose he takes a bit o' notice o' the little un, " said Tony, "when hecomes in now and then of an evening. "

"Ay, does he!" answered Oliver, earnestly. "My boy, he loves every childas if it was his very own, and it is his own in one sense. Didn't I readyou last night how he said, 'Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not. ' Why, he'd love all the young children in the world, if they weren't hindered from coming to him. "

"I should very much like to see him some day, " pursued Tony, reflectively, "and the rest of them, --Peter, and John, and them. I s'posethey are getting pretty old by now, aren't they?"

"They are dead, " said Oliver. 

"All of 'em?" asked Tony. 

"All of them, " he repeated. 

"Dear, dear!" cried Tony, his eyes glistening. "Whatever did the Masterdo when they all died? I'm very sorry for him now. He's had a manytroubles, hasn't he?"

"Yes, yes, " replied old Oliver, with a faltering voice. "He was called aman of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. Nobody ever bore so manytroubles as him. "

"How long is it ago since they all died?" asked Tony. 

"I can't rightly say, " he answered. "I heard once, but it is gone out ofmy head. I only know it was the same when I was a boy. It must have beena long, long time ago. "

"The same when you was a boy!" repeated Tony, in a tone ofdisappointment. "It must ha' been a long while ago. I thought all alongas the Master was alive now. "

"So he is, so he is!" exclaimed old Oliver, eagerly. "I'll read to youall about it. They put him to death on the cross, and buried him in arocky grave; but he is the Prince of Life, and he came to life againthree days after, and now he can die no more. His own words to Johnwere, 'I am he that liveth, and was dead; and behold, I am aliveforevermore. ' What else can it mean but that he is living now, and willnever die again?"

Tony made no answer. He sat with his sharp, unboyish face gazing intentlyinto the fire; for by this time autumn had set in, and the old man waschilly of an evening. A very uncertain, dim idea was dawning upon himthat this master and friend of old Oliver's was a being very differentfrom an ordinary man, however great and rich he might be. He had grown tolove the thought of him, and to listen attentively to the book which toldthe manner of life he led; but it was a chill to find out that he couldnot look into his face, and hear his voice, as he could Oliver's. Hisheart was heavy, and very sad. 

"I s'pose I can't see him, then, " he murmured to himself, at last. 

"Not exactly like other folks, " said Oliver. "I think sometimes thatperhaps there's a little darkness of the grave where he was buried abouthim still. But he sees us, and hears us. He himself says, 'Behold, I amwith you always. ' I don't know whatever I should do, even with my littlelove here, if I wasn't sure Jesus was with me as well. "

"I'll tell you what I'll do, " said Tony, after another pause. "I'm goingto ask him to give me somethink, and then if he does, I shall know hehears me--I should very much like to have a broom and a crossing, and getmy living a bit more easy, if you please. "

He had turned his face away from Oliver, and looked across into thedarkest corner of the room, where he could see nothing but shadow. Theold man felt puzzled, and somewhat troubled, but he only sighed softly tohimself; and opening the Testament, he read aloud in it till he wascalmed again, and Tony was listening in rapt attention. 

"My boy, " he said, as the hour came for Tony to go, "where are yousleeping now?"

"Anywhere as I can get out o' the wind, " he answered. "It's cold now, nights--wery cold, master. But I must get along a bit farder on. Lodgingsis wery dear. "

"I've been thinking, " said Oliver, "that you'd find it better to havesome sort of a shake-down under my counter. I've heard say thatnewspapers stitched together make a coverlid pretty near as warm as ablanket; and we could do no harm by trying them, Tony. Look here, and seehow you'd like it. "

It looked very much like a long box, and was not much larger. Two orthree beetles crawled sluggishly away as the light fell upon them, anddusty cobwebs festooned all the corners; but to Tony it seemed somagnificent an accommodation for sleeping, that he could scarcelybelieve he heard old Oliver aright. He looked up into his face with asharp, incredulous gaze, ready to wink and thrust his tongue into hischeek, if there was the least sign of making game of him. But the oldman was simply in earnest, and without a word Tony slipped down upon aheap of paper shavings strewed within, drew his ragged jacket up abouthis ears, and turned his face away, lest his tears should be seen. Hefelt, a minute or two after, that a piece of an old rug was laid overhim, but he could say nothing; and old Oliver could not hear the sobwhich broke from his lips. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

NO PIPE FOR OLD OLIVER. 

As some weeks went by, and no crossing and broom had been given to Tony, he began to suspect that Oliver was imposing upon him. Now that he sleptunder the counter, he could often hear the old man talking aloud to hisinvisible Friend as he smoked his pipe; and once or twice Tony creptnoiselessly to the door and watched him, after he had finished smoking, kneel down and hide his face in his hands for some minutes together. Butthe boy could see nothing, and his wish had not been granted; eventhough, as he grew more instructed, he followed Oliver's example, and, kneeling down behind the counter, whispered out a prayer for it. To besure his life was easier, especially the nights of it; for he never nowwent hungry and starved to bed upon some cold, hard door-step. But it wasold Oliver who did that for him, not old Oliver's Master. So far as heknew, the Lord Jesus had taken no notice whatever of him; and thefeeling, at first angry, softened down into a kind of patient grief, which was quickly dying away into indifference. 

Oliver had done himself no bad turn by offering a shelter to the solitarylad. Tony always woke early in the morning, and if it rained he would runfor the papers, before turning out to "find for himself" in the streets. He generally took care to be out of the way at meal-times; for it was asmuch as the old man could do to provide for himself and Dolly. SometimesTony saw him at the till, counting over his pence with rather a troubledface. Once, after receiving a silver fourpenny piece, an extraordinaryand undreamed of event, Tony dropped it, almost with a feeling of guilt, through the slit in the counter which communicated with the till. ButOliver was so bewildered by its presence among the coppers, that he wascompelled to confess what he had done, saying it would have cost himmore than that for lodgings these cold nights. 

"No, no, Tony, " said Oliver; "you're very useful, fetching my papers, andtaking my little love out a-walking when the weather's fine. I ought topay you something, instead of taking it of you. "

"Keep it for Dolly, " said Tony, bashfully, and pushing the coin into herlittle hand. 

"Sank 'oo, " answered Dolly, accepting it promptly; "me'll give 'oo twentykisses for it. "

It seemed ample payment to Tony, who went down on his knees to have thekisses pressed upon his face, which had never felt a kiss since hismother died. But Oliver was not satisfied with the bargain, though hedrew Dolly to him fondly, and left the money in her hand. 

"It 'ud buy you a broom, Tony, " he said. 

"Oh, I've give up asking for a crossing, " he answered, dejectedly; "forhe never heard, or if he heard, he never cared; so it were no use goingon teazing either him or me. "

"But this money 'ud buy the broom, " said Oliver; "and if you lookedabout you, you'd find the crossing. You never got such a bit of moneybefore, did you?"

"No, never, " replied Tony. "A tall, thin gentleman, with a dark face andvery sharp eyes, gave it me for holding his horse, near Temple Bar. Hesays, 'Mind you spend that well, my lad. ' I'd know him again anywhere. "

"You ought to have bought a broom, " said Oliver, looking down at Dolly'stightly-closed hand. 

"Don't you go to take it of her, " cried Tony. "Bless you! I'll getanother some way. I never thought that were the way he'd give me a broomand a crossing. I thought it 'ud be sure to come direct. "

"Well, " said Oliver, after a little pause, "I'll save the fourpence foryou. It'll only be going without my pipe for a few nights, that's all. That's nothing, Tony. "

It did not seem much to Tony, who had no idea as yet of the pleasures ofsmoking; yet he roused up just before falling into his deep sleep atnight to step softly to the door, and look in upon Oliver. He was sittingin his arm-chair, with his pipe between his lips, but there was notobacco in it; and he was holding more eager converse than ever with hisunseen companion. 

"Dear Lord!" he said, "I'd do ten times more than this for thee. Thouhast said, 'Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these, ye did itunto me. ' Tony's one of thy little ones. Dear Lord, do thee give him acrossing, if it be thy blessed will. Do thee now, Lord. "

Tony could hear no more, and he stole back to bed, his mind full of newand vague hopes. He dreamed of the fourpenny piece, and the gentleman whohad given it, and of Dolly, who bought a wondrous broom with it, in hisdream, which swept a beautiful crossing of itself. But old Oliver satstill a long time, talking half aloud; for his usual drowsiness did notcome to him. It was nearly five months now since Dolly was left to him, and he felt his deafness and blindness growing upon him slowly. Hisinfirmities were not yet so burdensome as to make him dependent uponothers; but he felt himself gradually drawing near to such a state. Dolly's clothes were getting sadly in want of mending; there was scarcelya fastening left upon them, and neither he nor Tony could sew on a buttonor tape. It was a long time--a very long time--since his sister had beento see him; and, with the reluctancy of old age to any active exertion, he had put off from week to week the task of writing to her to tell herof Susan's departure, and the charge he had in his little grandchild. Hemade up his mind that he would do it tomorrow. 

CHAPTER IX. 

A NEW BROOM AND A CROSSING. 

The morning was a fine soft, sunny December day, such as comes sometimesafter a long season of rain and fog, and Tony proposed taking Dolly outfor a walk through the streets, to which Oliver gladly consented, as itwould give to him exactly the undisturbed leisure he needed for writinghis letter to Charlotte. But Dolly was not in her usual spirits; on thecontrary, she was grave and sober, and at length Tony, thinking she wastired, sat down on a door-step, and took her upon his knee, to tell herhis dream of the wonderful broom which swept beautifully all by itself. Dolly grew more and more pensive after hearing this, and sat silent for along time, with her small head resting thoughtfully upon her hand, as shelooked up and down the street. 

"Dolly 'ud like to buy a boom, " she said, at last, "a great, big boom;and gan-pa 'ill smoke his pipe again to-night. Dolly's growing a biggirl; and me must be a good girl till mammy comes back. Let us go and buya big boom, Tony. "

For a few minutes Tony tried to shake her resolution, and persuade herto change her mind. He even tempted her with the sight of a doll in ashop-window; but she remained steadfast, and he was not sorry to give inat last. Since the idea had entered his head that the money had beengiven to him for the purpose of buying a broom, he had rather regrettedparting with it, and he felt some anxiety lest he should not be alloweda second chance. Dolly's light-heartedness had returned, and shetrotted cheerfully by his side as they walked on in search of a shopwhere they could make their purchase. It was some time before theyfound one, and they had already left behind them the busierthoroughfares, and had reached a knot of quieter streets where therewere more foot-passengers, for the fine morning had tempted many peopleout for pleasure as well as business. Tony was particular in his choiceof a broom, but once bought, he carried it over his shoulder, and wenton his way with Dolly in triumph. 

They were passing along chattering busily, when Tony's eyes fell upon achild about as old as Dolly, standing on the kerb-stone with a lady, wholooked anxiously across to the other side of the broad and very dirtyroad, for the day before had been rainy. They were both finely dressed, and the little girl had on new boots of shining leather, which it wasevident she was very much afraid of soiling. For a minute Tony onlylooked on at their perplexity, but then he went up to them, holding Dollyby the hand. 

[Illustration: A NEW BROOM AND A CROSSING]

"If you'll take care of my little girl, " he said, "I'll carry yourlittle girl across the road. I'm wery clean for a street-boy, all but myfeet, 'cos I've got this little girl to take care of; and I'll do itwery gentle. "

Both the lady and the child looked very searchingly into Tony's face. Itwas pale and meagre; but there was a pleasant smile upon it, and hiseyes shone down upon the two children with a very loving light in them. The lady took Dolly's hand in hers, nodding permission for him to carryher little child over to the other side, and she waited for him to comeback to his own charge. Then she took out her purse, and put twopenceinto his hand. 

"Thank ye, my lady, " said Tony; "but I didn't do it for that. I'm onlylooking out for a crossing. Me and Dolly have bought this broom, and I'mlooking out for a place to make a good crossing in. "

"Why not make one here?" asked the lady. 

It seemed a good place to try one in; there were four roads meeting, anda cab-stand close by. Plenty of people were passing to and fro, and themiddle of the road was very muddy. Tony begged a wisp of straw from acabman, to make a seat for Dolly in the sunshine under a blank bit ofwall, while he set to work with a will, feeling rather pleased than notthat the broom would not sweep of itself. A crossing was speedily made, and for two or three hours Tony kept it well swept. By that time it wastwelve o'clock, and Dolly's dinner would be ready for her before theycould reach home, if old Oliver had not forgotten it. It seemed a greatpity to leave his new post so early. Most passers-by, certainly, hadappeared not to see him at all; but he had already received fivepencehalfpenny, chiefly in halfpence, from ladies who were out for theirmorning's walk; and Dolly was enjoying herself very much in the sunshine, receiving all the attention which he could spare from his crossing. However a beginning was made. The broom and the crossing were hisproperty; and Tony's heart, beat fast with pride and gladness as hecarried the weary little Dolly all the way home again. He resolved to putby half of his morning's earnings towards replacing the fourpenny-pieceshe had given back to him; or perhaps he would buy her a beautiful doll, dressed like a real lady. 

CHAPTER X. 

HIGHLY RESPECTABLE. 

As old Oliver was stooping over his desk on the counter, and bringing hisdim eyes as close as he could to the letter he was writing, his shop-doorwas darkened by the unexpected entrance of his sister Charlotte herself. She was dressed with her usual extreme neatness, bordering upongentility, and she carried upon her arm a small fancy reticule, whichcontained some fresh eggs, and a few russet apples, brought up expresslyfrom the country. Oliver welcomed her with more than ordinary pleasure, and led her at once into his room behind. Charlotte's quick eyes detectedin an instant the traces of a child's dwelling there; and before Olivercould utter a word, she picked up a little frock, and was holding it outat arm's length, with an air of utter surprise and misgiving. 

"Brother James!" she exclaimed, and her questioning voice, with its toneof amazement, rang very clearly into his ears. 

"It's my little Dolly's, " he answered, in haste; "poor Susan's littlegirl, who's gone out with her husband, young Raleigh, to India, becausehe's 'listed, and left her little girl with me, her grandfather. She cameon the very last day you were here. "

"Well, to be sure!" cried his sister, sinking down on a chair, but stillkeeping the torn little frock in her hand. 

"I've had two letters from poor Susan, " he continued, in a tremulousvoice, "and I'll read them to you. The child's such a precious treasureto me, Charlotte--such a little love, a hundred times better than anygold; and now you're come to mend up her clothes a bit, and see what shewants for me, there's nothing else that I desire. I was writing about herto you when you came in. "

"I thought you'd gone and picked up a lost child out of the streets, "said Charlotte, with a sigh of relief. 

"No, no; she's my own, " he answered. "You hearken while I read poorSusan's letters, and then you'll understand all about it. I couldn't giveher up for a hundred gold guineas--not for a deal more than that. "

He knew Susan's letters off by heart, and did not need his spectacles, nor a good light to read them by. Charlotte listened with emphatic nods, and many exclamations of astonishment. 

"That's very pretty of Susan, " she remarked, "saying as Aunt Charlotte'lldo her sewing, and see to her manners. Ay, that I will! for who shouldknow manners better than me, who used to work for the Staniers, and dineat the housekeeper's table, with the butler and all the head servants? tobe sure I'll take care that she does not grow up ungenteel. Where is thedear child, brother James?"

"She's gone out for a walk this fine morning, " he answered. 

"Not alone?" cried Charlotte. "Who's gone out with her? A child underfive years old could never go out all alone in London: at least I shouldthink not. She might get run over and killed a score of times. "

"Oh! there's a person with her I've every confidence in, " replied Oliver. 

"What sort of person; man or woman; male or female?" inquired Charlotte. 

"A boy, " he answered, in some confusion. 

"A boy!" repeated his sister, as if he had said a monster. "What boy?"

"His name's Tony, " he replied. 

"But where does he come from? Is he respectable?" she pursued, fixinghim with her glittering eyes in a manner which did not tend to restorehis composure. 

"I don't know, sister, " he said in a feeble tone. 

"Don't know, brother James!" she exclaimed. "Don't you know wherehe lives?"

"He lives here, " stammered old Oliver; "at least he sleeps here under thecounter; but he finds his own food about the streets. "

Charlotte's consternation was past all powers of speech. Here was herbrother, a respectable man, who had seen better days, and whose sisterhad been a dressmaker in good families, harbouring in his own house acommon boy off the streets, who, no doubt, was a thief and pickpocket, with all sorts of low ways and bad language. At the same time there waspoor Susan's little girl dwelling under the same roof; the child whosepretty manners she was to attend to, living in constant companionshipwith a vulgar and vicious boy! What she might have said upon recoveringher speech, neither she nor Oliver ever knew; for at this crisis Tonyhimself appeared, carrying Dolly and his new broom in his arms, andlooking very haggard and tattered himself, his bare feet black with mud, and his bare head in a hopeless condition of confusion, and tangle. 

"We've bought a geat big boom, gan-pa, " shouted Dolly, as she camethrough the shop, and before she perceived the presence of a stranger;"and Tony and Dolly made a great big crossing, and dot ever so muchmoney--"

She was suddenly silent as soon as her eye fell upon the stranger; butAunt Charlotte had heard enough. She rose with great dignity from herchair, and was about to address herself vehemently to Tony, when oldOliver interrupted her. 

"Charlotte, " he said, "the boy's a good boy, and he's a help to me. Icouldn't send him away. He's one of the Lord's poor little ones as arescattered up and down in this great city, without father or mother, and Imust do all I can for him. It isn't much; it's only a bed under thecounter, and a crust now and then, and he more than pays for it. Youmusn't come betwixt me and Tony. "

Old Oliver spoke so emphatically, that his sister was impressed andsilenced for a minute. She took the little girl away from Tony, andglared at him with a sternness which made him feel very uncomfortable;but her eye softened a little, and her face grew less harsh. 

"You can't read or write?" she said, in a sharp voice. 

"No, " he answered. 

"And you've not got any manners, or boots, or a cap on your head. You areragged and ignorant, and not fit to live with this little girl, " shecontinued, with energy. "If this little girl's mother saw her going aboutwith a boy in bare feet and a bare head, it 'ud break her heart I know. So if you wish to stay here with my brother, Mr. Oliver, and this littlegirl, Miss Dorothy Raleigh, as I suppose her name is, you must get allthese things. You must begin to learn to read and write, and talkproperly. I shall come here again in a month's time--I shall come everymonth now--and if you haven't got some shoes for your feet, and a cap foryour head, before I see you again, I shall just take the little girl awaydown into the country, where I live, and you'll never see her again. Doyou understand?"

"Yes, " answered Tony, nodding his head. 

"Then you may take yourself away now, " said the sharp old woman, "I don'twant to be too hard upon you; but I've got this little girl to look afterfor her mother, and you must do as I say, or I shall carry her right offto be out of your way. Take your broom and go; and never you think ofsuch a thing as taking this little girl to sweep a crossing again. Inever heard of such a thing. There, go!"

Tony slunk away sadly, with a sudden down-heartedness. He returned sojoyous and triumphant, in spite of his weariness, that this unexpectedand unpleasant greeting had been a very severe shock to him. With hisbroom over his shoulder, and with his listless, slouching steps, hesauntered slowly back to his crossing; but he had no heart for it now. 

CHAPTER XI. 

AMONG THIEVES. 

The night fell early, for a thick fog came on in the afternoon. Tonycowered down upon his broom under the wall where Dolly had sat in thesunshine all the morning to watch him sweep his crossing. It was all overnow. She was lost to him; for he should never dare to go back to oldOliver's house, and face that terrible old woman again. There was nothingfor him but to return to his old life and his old haunts; and a chill ranthrough him, body and spirit, as he thought of it. His heap of papershavings under the counter, where the biting winds could not reach him, came to his mind, and the tears rushed to his eyes. But to-night, atleast, there would be no need to sleep out of doors, for he had somemoney in the safest corner of his ragged pocket, tied up in it securelywith a bit of string. He could afford to pay for a night's lodging, andhe knew very well where he could get one. 

About nine o'clock Tony turned his weary feet towards a slum he knewof in Westminster, where there was a cellar open to everybody who couldpay two-pence for a night's shelter. His heart was very full and heavywith resentment against his enemy, and a great longing to see Dolly. Heloitered about the door of the cellar, reluctant and almost afraid toventure in; for it was so long since he had been driven to any of theseplaces that he felt nearly like a stranger among them. Besides, in formertimes he had been kicked, and beaten, and driven from the fire, andfought with by the bigger boys; and he had become unaccustomed to suchtreatment of late. How different this lodging-house was to the quietpeaceful home where Dolly knelt down every evening at her grandfather'sknee, and prayed for him; for now she always put Tony's name into herchildish prayers! He should never, never hear her again, nor see oldOliver seated in his arm-chair, smoking his long pipe, while he talkedwith that strange friend and master of his. Ah! he would never hear orknow any more of that unseen Christ, who was so willing to be his masterand friend, for the Lord Jesus Christ could never come into such a wickedplace as this, which was the only home he had. He had given him thecrossing and the broom, and that was the end of it. He must take care ofhimself now, and keep out of gaol if he could, and if not, why then hehad better make a business of thieving, and become as good a pickpocketas "Clever Dog Tom, " who had once stolen a watch from a policemanhimself. 

Clever Dog Tom was the first to greet Tony when he slipped in at last, and he seemed inclined to make much of him; but Tony was too troubledfor receiving any consolation from Tom's friendly advances. He creptaway into the darkest corner, and stretched himself on the thin strawwhich covered the damp and dirty floor, but he could not fall asleep. There was a good deal of quarreling among the boys, and the men whowished to sleep swore long and loudly at them. Then there followed afight, which grew so exciting at last that every person in the place, except Tony, gathered about the boys in a ring, encouraging and cheeringthem. It was long after midnight before silence and rest came, and thenhe fell into a broken slumber, dreaming of Dolly and old Oliver, untilhe awoke and found his face wet with tears. He got up before any of hisbed-fellows were aroused, and made his way out into the fresh keen airof a December morning. 

Day after day went by, and night after night Tony was growing moreindifferent again to the swearing and fighting of his old comrades. Hebegan to listen with delight to the tales of Clever Dog Tom, who told himthat hands like his would work well in his line, and his innocent-lookingface would go a long way towards softening any judge and jury, or wouldbring him favour with the chaplain, and easy times in gaol. He kept hiscrossing still, and did tolerably well, earning enough to keep himself infood, and to pay for his night's shelter; but he was beginning to hankerafter something more. If he could not be good, and be on the same side asold Oliver and Dolly, he thought it would be better to be altogether onthe other side, like Tom, who dressed well, and lived well, and waslooked up to by other boys. It was a week after he had left old Oliver'shouse, and he was about to leave his crossing for the night, when agentleman stopped him suddenly, and looked keenly into his face. 

"Hollo, my lad!" he said, "you're the boy I gave fourpence to a weekago for holding my horse. I told you to lay it out well. What did youdo with it?"

"Me and Dolly bought this broom, " he answered, "and I've kept thiscrossing ever since. "

"Well done!" said the gentleman. "And who is Dolly?"

"It's a little girl as I was very fond of, " replied Tony, with a deepsigh. It seemed so long ago that he spoke of his love for her as if itwas a thing altogether passed away and dead, yet his heart still ached atthe memory of it. 

"Well, here's another fourpenny-bit for you, " said his friend, "quite anew one. See how bright it is; no one has ever bought anything with ityet. Dolly will like to see it. "

Tony held it in the palm of his hand long after the gentleman was out ofsight, gazing at it in the lamplight. It was very beautiful and shining;and oh! how Dolly's eyes would shine and sparkle if she could only seeit! And she ought to see it. By right it belonged to her; for had he notgiven her his first fourpenny-piece freely, and had twenty kisses for it, and then had she not given it him back to buy a broom with? she had neverhad a single farthing of all his earnings. How he would like to show herthis beautiful piece of silver, and feel her soft little arms round hisneck, when he said it was to be her very own! He felt that he dare notpass the night in the cellar with such a treasure about him, for Tom, whowas so clever, would be sure to find out that his pocket was worth thepicking, and Tony had not found that there was much honour among thieves. What was he to do? Where was he to go?

CHAPTER XII. 

TONY'S WELCOME. 

Almost without knowing where his feet were carrying him, Tony saunteredthrough the streets until he found himself at the turn into the alleywithin a few yards of Oliver's home, and his beloved Dolly. At any ratehe could pass down it, and, if the shop-door was not shut, he would wraphis beautiful silver coin in a rag, and throw it into the inside; theywould be sure to guess who had done it, and what it was for. It was darkdown the alley, only one lamp and the greengrocer's gas lighting it up, and Tony stole along quietly in the shadow. It was nearly time for Dollyto be going to bed, he thought, and old Oliver was sure to be with her inthe inner room; but just as he came into the revealing glare of thegreengrocer's stall, his ears rang and his heart throbbed violently atthe sound of a shrill little scream of gladness, and the next moment hefelt himself caught by Dolly's arms, and dragged into the house by them. 

"Tony's come home, Tony's come home, gan-pa!" she shouted with all hermight. "Dolly's found Tony at last!"

Dolly's voice quivered, and broke down into quick, childish sobs, whileshe held Tony very fast, lest he should escape from her once again; andold Oliver came quickly from the room beyond, and laid his hand fondlyupon the boy's shoulder. 

"Why have you kept away from us so long, Tony?" he asked. 

"Oh, master!" he cried, "I've been a wicked boy, and a miserable boy. Doforgive me, and I'll never do so no more. I s'pose you'll never let mesleep under the counter again?"

"Come in, come in!" answered Oliver, pushing him gently before him intothe house. "We've been waiting and watching for you every night, me andmy little love. You ought not to have served us so, my lad; but we're tooglad to be angry with you. Charlotte's sharp, and she's very much afraidof low ways and manners; but she isn't a hard woman, and she didn't knowanything about you. When I told her as you'd been left no bigger than mylittle love here to take care of yourself, alone, in London, --motherdead, and no father, --she shed tears about you, she did. And she left youthe biggest of her eggs to be kept for your supper, with her kind love;and we've put it by for you. You shall have it this very night. Dolly, mylove, bring me the little saucepan. "

"I'm not so clean as I could wish, " said Tony, mournfully; for he hadneglected himself during the last week, and looked very much like what hehad done when he had first seen old Oliver and his little grand-daughter. 

"Take a bowl full of water into the shop, then, " answered Oliver, "andwash yourself, while I boil the egg. Dolly'll find you a bit of soap anda towel; she's learning to be grand-pa's little housekeeper, she is. "

When Tony returned to the kitchen he looked a different being; the gloomwas gone as well as the grime. He felt as if he had come to himself aftera long and very miserable dream. Here was old Oliver again, looking athim with a kindly light in his dim eyes, and Dolly dancing about, withher pretty merry little ways; and Beppo wagging his tail in joyouswelcome, as he sniffed round and round him. Even the egg was a token offorgiveness and friendliness. That terrible old woman was not his enemy, after all. He recollected what she had said he must do, and he resolvedto do it for Dolly's sake, and old Oliver's. He would learn to read andwrite, and he would pinch himself hard to buy some better clothing, lesthe should continue to be a disgrace to them; shoes he must have first ofall, as those were what the sharp but friendly old woman had particularlymentioned. At any rate, he could never run away again from this home, where he was so loved and cared for. 

Oliver told him how sadly Dolly had fretted after him, and watched forhim at the door, hour after hour, to see him come home again. He saidthat in the same way, only with a far greater longing and love, hisMaster, the Lord Jesus Christ, was waiting for Tony to go to him. Hecould not half understand it, but a vague feeling of a love passing allunderstanding sank deeply into his heart. He fell asleep that night underthe counter with the tranquil peacefulness of one who has been tossedabout in a great storm and tempest, and has been brought safely to thedesired haven. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

NEW BOOTS. 

It was several weeks before Tony could scrape together enough money forhis new boots, though he pinched and starved himself with heroic courageand endurance. He did not mean to buy them at a shop; for he knew a placein Whitechapel where boots quite good enough for him were to be had fortwo or three shillings. He was neither ambitious nor fastidious; oldboots patched up would do very well to start with, if he could onlymanage to get them before aunt Charlotte came up to town again. She hadsent word she was coming the last Saturday in January; and early in theafternoon of that day, before the train could come in from Stratford, Tony started off to the place where he intended to make his purchase. 

It was a small open space in one of the streets of Whitechapel, wherethere was an area of flags, lying off the pavement. Several traders heldpossession of this square, sitting on low stools, or cross-legged on theground, with their stock in trade around them. One dealer bought and soldall kinds of old and rusty pieces of iron; another, a woman, ill clad andwith red eyes, displayed before her a dingy assortment of ragged clothes, which were cheapened by other spare and red-eyed women, who held almostnaked children by the hand. It was cold, and a bitter, keen east wind wassearching every corner of London streets. The salesman Tony was come todeal with had a tolerable selection of old boots, very few of them pairs, some with pretty good upper-leathers, but with no soles worth speakingof; and others thickly cobbled and patched, but good enough to keep thefeet dry, without presenting a very creditable appearance. For the firsttime in his life Tony found out the perplexity of having a choice tomake. There were none which exactly fitted him; but a good fit is aluxury for richer folks than Tony, and he was not troubled about it. Hischief anxiety was to look well in the eyes of Dolly's aunt, who mightpossibly let him see her on her way back to the station, if she approvedof him; and who would not now be obliged to carry Dolly off with her, tobe out of the way of his naked feet. 

He fixed upon a pair at last, urged and coaxed to them by the dealer. They were a good deal too large, and his feet slipped about in themuncomfortably; but the man assured him that was how everybody, evengentlefolks, bought them, to leave room for growing. There was anawkward, uneven patch under one of the soles, and the other heel was worndown at the side; but at least they covered his feet well. He shambledaway in them slowly and toilsomely, hardly knowing how to lift one footafter another, yet full of pride in his new possessions. It was a longway home to old Oliver's alley, between Holborn and the Strand; but hewas in no hurry to arrive there before they had finished and cleared awaytheir tea; so he travelled painfully in that direction, stopping now andthen to regale himself at the attractive windows of tripe and cow-heelshops. He watched the lamplighters kindling the lamps, and theshopkeepers lighting up their gas; and then he heard the great solemnclock of St. Paul's strike six. Tea would be quite over now, and Tonyturned down a narrow back street, which would prove a nearer way homethan the thronged thoroughfares, and set off to run as fast as he couldin his awkward and unaccustomed boots. 

It was not long before he came to a sudden and sharp fall off thekerb-stone, as he trod upon a bit of orange-peel, and slipped upon it. Hefelt stunned for a few seconds, and sat still rubbing his forehead. Theseback streets were very quiet, for the buildings were mostly offices andwarehouses, and most of them were already closed for the night. He liftedhimself up at length, and set his foot upon the flags; but a shrill cryof pain broke from his lips, and rang loudly through the quiet street. Hefell back upon the pavement, quivering and trembling, with a chillymoisture breaking out upon his skin. What hurt had been done to him? Howwas it that he could not bear to walk? He took off his new boots, andtried once more, but with no better success. He could not endure theagony of standing or moving. 

Yet he must move; he must get up and walk. If he did not go home, theywould think he had run away again, for fear of meeting Dolly's aunt. Atthat thought he set off to crawl homewards upon his hands and knees, withsuppressed groans, as his foot trailed uselessly along the ground. Yet heknew he could not advance very far in this manner. What if he should haveto lie all night upon the hard paving-stones! for he could not rememberever having seen a policeman in these back streets; and there did notseem to be anybody else likely to pass that way. It was freezing fast, now the sun was gone down, and his hands scraped up the frosty mud as hedragged himself along. If he stayed out all night, he must die of coldand pain before morning. 

But if that was true which old Oliver said so often, that the Lord JesusChrist loved him, and that he was always with those whom he loved, thenhe was not alone and helpless even here, in the deserted street, with theice and darkness of a winter's night about him. Oh! if he could but feelthe hand of Christ touching him, or hear the lowest whisper of his voice, or catch the dimmest sight of his face! Perhaps it was he who was helpinghim to crawl towards the stir and light of a more frequented street, which he could see afar off, though the pain he felt made him giddy andsick. It became too much for him at last, however, and he drew himselfinto the shelter of a warehouse door, and crouched down in a corner, crying, with clasped hands, and sobbing voice, "Oh! Lord Jesus Christ!Lord Jesus Christ!"

After uttering this cry Tony lay there for some minutes, his eyes growingglazed and his ears dull, when a footstep came briskly up the street, andsome one, whom he could not now see for the strange dimness of hissight, stopped opposite to him, and then stooped to touch him on the arm. 

"Why, " said a voice he seemed to know, "you're my young friend of thecrossing, --my little fourpenny-bit, I call you. What brings you sittinghere this cold night?"

"I've fell down and hurt myself, " answered Tony, faintly. 

"Where?" asked the stranger. 

"My leg, " he answered. 

The gentleman stooped down yet lower, and passed his hand gently alongTony's leg till he came to the place where his touch gave him the mostacute pain. 

"Broken!" he said to himself. "My boy, where's your home?"

"I haven't got any right home, " answered Tony, more faintly than before. He felt a strange numbness creeping over him, and his lips were tooparched and his tongue too heavy for speaking. The gentleman took off hisown great-coat and wrapped it well about him, placing him at the sametime in a more comfortable position. Then he ran quickly to the neareststreet, hailed the first cab, and drove back to where Tony was lying. 

[Illustration: TONY'S ACCIDENT. ]

CHAPTER XIV. 

IN HOSPITAL. 

The pain Tony was suffering kept him partially conscious of what washappening to him. He knew that he was carried gently into a large hall, and that two or three persons came to look at him, to whom his new friendspoke in eager and rapid tones. 

"I know you do not take in accidents, " he said; "but what could I dowith the little fellow? He told me he had no home, and that was all hecould say. You have two or three cots empty; and I'll double mysubscription if it's necessary, rather than take him away. Come, doctor, you'll admit my patient?"

"I don't think I could send him away, Mr. Ross, " answered another heartyvoice. "We must get him into bed as soon as possible. "

Tony felt himself carried up stairs into a large room, where there were anumber of small beds, with a pale little face lying on every pillow. There was a vacant cot at the end, and he was laid upon it, after havinghis tattered clothes taken off him. His new boots were gone altogether, having been left behind on the steps of the warehouse. His hands andknees, bruised with crawling along the frosty stones, were gently bathedwith a soft sponge and warm water. He was surrounded by kind faces, looking pitifully down upon him, and the gentleman who had brought himthere spoke to him in a very pleasant and cheering voice. 

"My boy, " he said, "you have broken your leg in your fall; but the doctorhere, who is a great friend of mine, is going to mend it for you. It willgive you a good deal of pain for a few minutes; but you'll bear it like aman, I know. "

"Yes, " murmured Tony; "but will you let me go as soon as it's done?"

"You could not do that, " answered Mr. Ross, smiling. "It will be someweeks before you will be well enough to go; but you will be very happyhere, I promise you. "

"Oh! but I must go!" cried Tony, starting up, but falling back again witha groan. "There's Dolly and Mr. Oliver, --they'll think I've run awayagain, and I were trying all I could to get back to 'em. She'll bewatching for me, and she'll fret ever so. Oh! Dolly, Dolly!"

He spoke in a tone of so much grief, that the smile quite passed awayfrom the face of Mr. Ross, and he laid his hand upon his, and answeredhim very earnestly:

"If you will tell me where they live, " he said, "I will go at once andlet them know all about your accident; and they shall come to see youto-morrow if you are well enough to see them. "

Tony gave him very minute and urgent directions where to find oldOliver's shop; and then he resigned himself, with the patience andfortitude of most of the little sufferers in that hospital, to thenecessary pain he had to bear. 

It was Sunday afternoon when old Oliver and Dolly entered the hall of theChildren's Hospital and inquired for Tony. There was something about theold man's look of age and the little child's sweet face which found themfavour, even in a place where everybody was received with kindness. Anurse, who met them slowly climbing the broad staircase, turned back withthem, taking Dolly's hand in hers, and led them up to the room wherethey would find Tony. There were many windows in it, and the sunshine, which never shone into their own home, was lighting it up gaily. The cotswere all covered with white counterpanes, and most of the littlepatients, who had been asleep the night before, were now awake, andsitting up in bed, with little tables before them, which they could slideup and down as they wished along the sides of their cots. There was nosign of medicine, and nothing painful to see, except the wan faces of thechildren themselves. But Oliver and Dolly had no eyes but for Tony, andthey hurried on to the corner where he was lying. His face was verywhite, and his eyelids were closed, and his lips drawn in as if he werestill in pain. But at the very gentle and almost frightened touch ofDolly's fingers his eyes opened quickly, and then how his face changed!It looked as if all the sunshine in the room had centred upon it, and hisvoice shook with gladness. 

"Dolly hasn't had to fret for Tony this time, " he said. 

"But Dolly will fret till Tony gets well again, " she answered, claspingboth her small hands round his. 

"No, no!" said old Oliver; "Dolly's going to be a very good girl, andhelp grand-pa to mind shop till Tony comes home again. "

This promise of promotion partly satisfied Dolly, and she sat still uponOliver's knee beside Tony's cot, where his eyes could rest withcontentment and pleasure upon them both, though the nurse would not letthem talk much. When they went away she took them through the girls'wards in the story below; for the girls were more sumptuously lodged thanthe boys. These rooms were very lofty, with windows reaching to thecornice of the ceiling, and with grand marble chimney-pieces about thefireplaces; for in former times, the nurse told them, this had been agentleman's mansion, where gay parties and assemblies had been held; butnever had there been such a party and assembly as the one now in it. 

Old Oliver walked down between the rows of cots, with his little loveclinging shyly to his hand, smiling tenderly upon each poor little faceturned to look at them. Some of the children smiled back to him, andnodded cheerfully to Dolly, lifting up their dolls for her to see, andcalling to her to listen to the pretty tunes their musical boxes wereplaying. But others lay quietly upon their pillows half asleep, withbeautiful pictures hanging over their feeble heads, --pictures of Christcarrying a lamb in his arms; and again, of Christ with a little childupon his knee; and again, of Christ holding the hand of the young girlwho seemed dead, but whose ear heard his voice saying "Arise!" and shecame to life again in her father's and mother's house. The tears stood inold Oliver's eyes, and his white head trembled a great deal before he hadseen all, and given one of his tender glances to each child. 

"I wonder whatever the Lord 'ud have said, " he exclaimed, "if there'dbeen such a place as this in his days! He'd have come here very often. Hedoes come, I know, and walks to and fro here of nights when the littleones are asleep, or may be awake through pain, and he blesses every oneof them. Ah, bless them! Bless the little children, and the good folkswho keep a place like this. Bless them everyone!"

He felt reluctant to go away; but his time was gone, and the nurse wasneeded elsewhere. She kissed Dolly before she went, putting a biscuit inher hand, and told Oliver the house was open every Sunday afternoon forthe friends of the children, if he chose to come again; and then theywalked home with slow, short footsteps, and all the Sunday evening theytalked together of the beautiful place they had seen, and how happy Tonywould be in the Children's Hospital. 

CHAPTER XV. 

TONY'S FUTURE PROSPECTS. 

Old Oliver and Dolly made several visits to Tony while he was in thehospital. Every Sunday afternoon they went back to it, until its greatdoor, and wide staircase, and sunny ward, became almost as familiar tothem as their own dull little house. Tony recovered quickly, yet he wasthere some weeks before the doctor pronounced him strong enough to turnout again to rough it in the world. As he grew better he learned a numberof things which were making him a wiser, as well as a stronger boy, before the time came for him to leave. 

The day before he was to go out of hospital, his friend, Mr. Ross, whohad been often to see him, called for the last time, and found him in theroom where the little patients who were nearly well were at playtogether. Some of them were making believe to have a feast, with a smalldinner-service of wooden plates and dishes, and a few bits oforange-peel, and biscuits; but Tony was sitting quietly and gravely onone side, looking on from a distance. He had never learned to play. 

"Antony, " said Mr. Ross--he was the only person who ever called himAntony, and it seemed to make more of a man of him--"what are youthinking to do when you leave here to-morrow?"

"I s'pose I must go back to my crossing, " answered Tony, lookingvery grave. 

"No, I think I can do better for you than that, " said his friend, "Ihave a sister living out in the country, about fifty miles from London;and she wants a boy to help the gardener, and run on errands for thehouse. She has promised to provide you with a home, and clothing, and tosend you to school for two years, till you are about twelve, for wethink you must be about ten years old now; and after that you shall havesettled wages. "

Tony listened with a quick throbbing of his heart and a contraction inhis throat, which hindered him from speaking all at once when Mr. Rosshad finished. What a grand thing it would be for himself! But then therewere old Oliver and Dolly to be remembered. 

"It 'ud do first-rate for me, " he said at last, "and I'd try my best tohelp in the garden; but I couldn't never leave Mr. Oliver and the littlegirl. She'd fret ever so; and he's gone so forgetful he'd lose his ownhead, if he could anyhow. Why! of a morning they sell him any papers asthey've too many of. Sometimes it's all the 'Star, ' and sometimes it'sall the 'Standard;' and them as buys one won't have the other. I don'tknow why, I'm sure. But you see when I go for 'em I say twenty-five this, and thirteen that, and I count 'em over pretty sharp, I can tell you;though I couldn't read at all afore I came here, but I could tell whichwas which easy enough. Then he'd never think to open his shop somemornings; and other mornings he'd open at four or five o'clock, just whenhe woke of hisself. No. I must stay and take care of 'em a bit; but thankyou, sir, all the same. "

He had spoken so gravely and thoughtfully that his reasons went directlyto the heart of Mr. Ross; but he asked him one more question, before hecould let his good plan for the boy drop. 

"What has he done for you, Antony? Is he any relation of yours?"

"No, no!" cried Tony, his eyes growing bright, "I haven't got anyrelation in all the world; but he took me in out of love, and let mesleep comfortable under the counter, instead of in the streets. I lovehim, and Dolly, I do. I'll stay by 'em as long as ever I live, if I haveto sweep a crossing till I'm an old man like him. Besides, I hear himspeak a good word for me often and often to his Master; and I s'posenobody else 'ud do that. "

"What master?" inquired Mr. Ross. 

"Him, " answered Tony, pointing to a picture of the Saviour blessing youngchildren, "he's always talking to him as if he could see him, and hetells him everythink. No, it 'ud be better for me to stay with him andDolly, and keep hard by my crossing, than go away from 'em, and haveclothes, and lodging, and schooling for nothink. "

"I think it would, " said Mr. Ross, "so you must go on as you are, Antony, till I can find you something better than a crossing. You are lookingvery well, my boy; that's a nice, warm suit of clothes you have on, better than the rags you came in by a long way. "

It was a sailor's suit, sent to the hospital by some mother, whose boyhad perhaps outgrown it; or, it may be, whose boy had been taken awayfrom all her tender care for him. It was of good, rough, thick bluecloth, and fitted Tony well. He had grown a good deal during hisillness, and his face had become whiter and more refined; his hair, too, was cut to a proper length, and parted down the side, no longer lyingabout his head in a tangled mass. He coloured up with pleasure as Mr. Ross looked approvingly at him. 

"They've lent it me till I go out, " he said, with a tone slightlyregretful in his voice, "I only wish Dolly could have seen me in it, andher aunt Charlotte. My own things were too ragged for me to wear 'em in aplace like this. "

"They've given it to you, Antony, " replied Mr. Ross, "those are theclothes you will go home in to-morrow. "

It seemed too much for Tony to believe, though a nurse who was sitting byand sewing away busily, told him it was quite true. He was intenselyhappy all the rest of the day, often standing up, and almost straininghis neck to get a satisfactory view of his own back, and stroking the napof his blue trousers with a fondling touch. They would all see him in it;old Oliver, Dolly, and aunt Charlotte. There would be no question now asto his fitness for taking Dolly out for a walk; he would be dressed wellenough to attend upon a princess. This made famous amends for the pairof old boots he had lost the night he broke his leg; a loss he had oftensilently lamented over in his own mind. The nurse told him she waspatching up his old clothes, and making him a cap, to wear when he was atwork on his crossing, for the new ones were much too good for that; andTony felt as rich as if a large fortune had been left to him. 

It was a very joyful thing to go home again. Dolly was a little shy atfirst of this new Tony, so different from the poor, ragged, wild-lookingold Tony; but a very short time was enough to make her familiar with hisnice blue suit, and the anchor-buttons upon it. He found his place underthe counter all nicely papered to keep the draughts out; and a littlechaff mattress, made by aunt Charlotte, laid down instead of the shavingsupon the floor. It was even pleasanter to be here than in the hospital. 

But Tony found it hard work to go back to his crossing in the morning;and he could not make out what was the matter with himself, he felt socross and idle. His old clothes seemed really such horrid rags that hecould scarcely bear to feel them about him; and if any passer-by lookedclosely at him, he went red and hot all over. He was not so successfulas he thought he had been before his accident, or as he thought he oughtto be; for the roads were getting cleaner with the drier weather, and fewpersons considered it necessary to give him a copper for his almostneedless labour. Worst of all, --Clever Dog Tom found him out, and wouldcome often to see him; sometimes jeering him for his poor spirit in beingcontent with such low work, and sometimes boasting of the fine things hecould do, and displaying the fine clothes he could wear. It was trulyvery hard work for Tony, after his long holiday at the hospital, where hehad had as much luxury and attention as a rich man's son. 

But at home in the evening Tony felt all right again. Old Oliver set himto learn to read and write, and he was making rapid progress, more rapidthan Dolly, who began at the same time, but who was apt to look upon itall as only another kind of game, of which she grew more quickly tiredthan of hide-and-seek. There was no one to check her, or to make herunderstand it was real, serious work: neither old Oliver nor Tony couldfind any fault with their darling. Now and then there came letters fromher mother, full of anxious questions about her, and loving messages toher, telling her to be a good girl till she came back, but never sayinga word as to when there was any chance of her returning to England. Inone of these letters she sent word that a little sister was come for herout in India, who was just like what Dolly herself had been when she wasa baby; but neither Oliver nor Tony could quite believe that. There neverhad been such a child as Dolly; there never would be again. 

CHAPTER XVI

A BUD FADING. 

A second summer went by with its long, hot days, when the sun seemed tostand still in the sky, and to dart down its most sultry beams into thedustiest and closest streets. Out in the parks, and in the broadthoroughfares where the fresh breeze could sweep along early in themorning, and in the evening as soon as the air grew cooler, it was verypleasant weather; and the people who could put on light summer dressesenjoyed it very much. But away among the thickly-built and crowdedhouses, where there were thousands of persons breathing over and overagain the same hot and stagnant atmosphere, it seemed as if the mostdelicate and weakly among them must be suffocated by the breathless heat. Old Oliver suffered very greatly, but he said nothing about it; indeed hegenerally forgot the cause of his languor and feebleness. He never knewnow the day of the week, nor the month of the year. If any one had toldhim in the dog-days of July that it was still April, he would only haveanswered gently that it was bright, warm weather for the time of year. 

But about old times his memory was good enough; he could tell longstories of his boyhood, and describe the hills of his native place insuch a manner as to set Tony full of longings after the country, with itscornfields, and meadows, and hedge-rows, which he had never seen. Heremembered his Bible, too, and could repeat chapter after chapterdescribing his Master's life, as they sat together in the perpetualtwilight of their room; for now that it was summer-time it did not seemright to keep the gas burning. 

Tony's crossing had failed him altogether, for in dry weather nobodywanted it; but in this extremity Mr. Ross came to his aid, and procuredhim a place as errand-boy, where he was wanted from eight o'clock in themorning till seven at night; so that he could still open old Oliver'sshop, and fetch him his right papers before he went out, and put theshutters up when he came back. To become an errand-boy was a good stepforwards, and Tony was more than content. He never ran about bare-headedand barefooted now as he had done twelve months before; and he had madesuch good progress in reading and writing that he could already make outthe directions upon the parcels he had to deliver, after they had beenonce read over to him. He did not object to the dry weather and cleanstreets as he had done when his living depended upon his crossing; on thecontrary, he enjoyed the sunshine, and the crowds of gaily-dressedpeople, for he could hold up his head amongst them, and no longer wentprowling about in the gutters searching after bits of orange-peel. Hekicked them into the gutters instead, mindful of that accident which hadbefallen him, but which turned out so full of good for him. 

[Illustration: DOLLY'S MONTHLY REGISTER. ]

But, if there had been any eye to see it, a very slow, and very sadchange was creeping over Dolly; so slowly indeed, that perhaps none buther mother's eye could have seen it at first. On the first of everymonth, which old Oliver knew by the magazines coming in, he marked howmuch his little love had grown by placing her against the side-post ofthe door, and making a thick pencil line where her curly head reached to. He looked at this record often, smiling at the rate his little woman wasgrowing taller; but it was really no wonder that his dim eyes, loving asthey were, never saw how the rosy colour was dying away out of hercheeks, as gradually as the red glow fades away in the west after the sunhas set, nor how the light grew fainter and fainter in her blue eyes, until they looked at him very heavily from under her drooping eyelids. The house was too dark for any sight to see very clearly; the full, strong, healthy light of the sun, could not find its way into it, and dayafter day Dolly became more like one of those plants growing in shadyplaces, which live and shoot up, but only put out pale and sickly leaves, and feeble buds. One by one, and by little and little, with degrees assmall as her own tiny footsteps, she lost all her merry ways, droppingthem, here one and there another, upon the path she was silentlytreading; as little children let fall the flowers they have gathered inthe meadows, along their road homewards. Yet all the time old Oliver wasloving and cherishing her as the dearest of all treasures, second only tothe Master whom he loved so fully; but he never discovered that therewas any change in her. Dolly fell into very quiet ways, and would sitstill for hours together, her arm around Beppo, and her sweet, patientlittle face, which was growing thin and hollow, turned towards theflickering light of the fire, while Oliver pottered toilsomely about hishouse, forgetting many things, but always ready with a smile and a fondword for his grand-daughter. 

Just as Oliver was too old to feel any anxiety about Dolly, so Tony wastoo young, and knew too little of sickness and death. Moreover, when hecame home in the evening, full of the business of the day, with a numberof stories to tell of what had happened to him, and what he had seen, Dolly was always more lively, and had a feverish colour on her face, anda brilliant light in her eyes. He seemed to bring life and strength withhim, and she liked him to nurse her on his knee, which did not grow tiredand stiff like her grandfather's. How should Tony detect anything amisswith her? She never complained of feeling any pain, and he was glad forher to be very quiet and still while he was busy with his lessons. 

But when the summer was ended, and after the damp warm fogs of Novemberwere over, and a keen, black frost set in sharply before Christmas--afrost which had none of the beauty of white lime and clear blue skies, but which hung over the city like a pall, and penetrated to everyfireside with an icy breath; when only the strong and the healthy, whowere well clothed and well fed, could meet it bravely, while thedelicate, and sickly, and poverty-stricken, shrank before it, and werechilled through and through, then Dolly drooped and failed altogether. Even old Oliver's dull ears began to hear a little cough, which seemed toecho from some grave not very far away; and when he drew his little lovebetween his knees, and put on his spectacles to gaze into her face, thedearest face in all the world to him, even his eyes saw something of itswanness, and the hollow lines which had come upon it since the summer hadpassed away. The old man felt troubled about her, yet he scarcely knewwhat to do. He bought sweetmeats to soothe her cough, and thoughtsometimes that he must ask somebody or other about a doctor for her; buthis treacherous memory always let the thought slip out of his mind. Heintended to take counsel with his sister when she came to see him; butaunt Charlotte was herself very ill with an attack of rheumatism, andcould not get up to old Oliver's house. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A VERY DARK SHADOW. 

The Christmas week passed by, and the new year came in, cold and bleak, but Tony was well secured against the weather, and liked the frosty air, which made it pleasant to run as fast as he could from place to place ashe delivered his parcels. When boxing day came, which was half-holidayfor him, he returned to the house at mid-day, carrying with him threemince-pies, which he had felt himself rich enough to buy in honour of theholiday. He had for a long time been reckoning upon shutting up shop forthe whole afternoon, and upon going out for a long stroll through thestreets with old Oliver and Dolly; and now that the hour was positivelycome he felt very light-hearted and full of spirits, defying the windwhich wrestled with him at every turn. Dolly must be wrapped up well, hesaid to himself, and old Oliver must put on his drab great coat, withmother o' pearl buttons, which he had brought up from the country fortyyears ago, and which was still good for keeping out the cold. He randown the alley, and passed through the shop whistling cheerily, anddisdaining to lift the flap of the counter, he took a running vault overit, and landed at once inside the open kitchen-door. 

But there was old Oliver sitting close to the fire, with Dolly on hisknee, and her little head lying upon his breast, while the tears trickledslowly down his furrowed cheeks on to her pretty curls. Beppo wasstanding between his legs, licking Dolly's small hand, which hunglanguidly by her side. Her eyelids were closed, and her face was deadlywhite; but when Tony uttered a great cry of trouble, and fell on hisknees before her, she opened her heavy eyes, and stretched out her coldthin hand to stroke his cheeks. "Dolly's so very ill, Tony, " shemurmured, "poor Dolly's very ill indeed. "

"I don't know whatever is the matter with my little love, " said the oldman, in a low and trembling voice; "she fell down all of a sudden, and Ithought she was dead, Tony; but she's coming round again now. Isn't mylittle love better now?"

"Yes, gan-pa, yes; Dolly's better, " she answered faintly. 

"Let me hold her, master, " said Tony, his heart beating fast; "I canhold her stronger and more comfortable, maybe, than you. You're tiredever so, and you'd better get yourself a bit of dinner. Shall Tony nurseyou now, Dolly?"

The little girl raised her arms to him, and Tony took her gently into hisown, sitting down upon the old box in the chimney-corner, and putting herto nestle comfortably against him. Dolly closed her eyes again, andby-and-bye he knew that she had fallen into a light sleep, while oldOliver moved noiselessly to and fro, only now and then saying half aloud, in a tone of strange earnestness and entreaty, "Lord! dear Lord!"

After awhile the old man came and bent over them both, taking Dolly's armsoftly between his withered fingers, and looking down at it with ashaking head. 

"She's very thin, Tony; look at this little arm, " he said, "wasting away!wasting away! I've watched all my little ones waste away except my poorSusan. Couldn't there anything be done to save her?"

"Ay!" answered Tony, in an energetic whisper, while he clasped Dolly alittle tighter in his arms; "ay! they could cure her easily at thehospital. Bless yer! there were little 'uns ten times worse than her asthey sent home cured. Let us take her there as soon as ever she wakesup, and she'll be quite well directly, I promise you. The doctor knowsme, and I'll speak to Mr. Ross for her. Do you get a bit of dinner, andhearten yourself up for it; and we'll set off as soon as she's awake. "

Old Oliver turned away comforted, and prepared his own and Tony's dinner, and put a mince-pie into the oven to be ready to tempt Dolly's appetitewhen she awoke. But she slept heavily all the afternoon till it wasalmost dark outside, and the lamps were being lit, when she awoke, restless and feverish. 

"Would Dolly like to go to that nice place, where the little girls hadthe dolls and the music?" asked Tony, in a quavering voice which he couldscarcely keep from sobs; "the good place where Tony got well again, andthey gave him his new clothes? Everybody 'ud be so wery kind to poorlittle Dolly, and she'd come home again, quite cured and strong, likeTony was. "

"Yes, yes!" cried Dolly, eagerly, raising herself up in his arms; "it's anice place, and the sun shines, and Dolly 'ud like to go. Only she'll besure to come back to gan-pa. "

It was some time yet before they were quite ready to start, though Dollycould not be coaxed to eat the hot mince-pie, or anything else. OldOliver had to get himself into his drab overcoat, and the ailing childhad to be protected in the best way they could against the searchingwind. After they had put on all her own warmest clothing, Tony wrappedhis own thick blue jacket about her, and lifting her very tenderly in hisarms, they turned out into the streets, closely followed by Beppo. 

It was now quite night, but the streets were well lighted from the shopwindows, and throngs of people were hurrying hither and thither; for itwas boxing-night, and all the lower classes of the inhabitants weretaking holiday. But old Oliver saw and heard nothing of the crowd. Hewalked on by Tony's side; with feeble and tottering steps, deaf andblind, but whispering all the while, with trembling lips, to One whom noone else could see or hear. Once or twice Tony saw a solemn smile flitacross his face, and he nodded his head and raised his hand, as one whogives his assent to what is said to him. So they passed on through thenoisy streets till they reached quieter ones, were there were neithershops nor many passers-by, and there they found the home where they weregoing to leave their treasure for a time. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

NO ROOM FOR DOLLY. 

Old Oliver rang the house-bell very quietly, for Dolly seemed to beasleep again, and lay quite still in Tony's arms, which were growingstiff, and benumbed by the cold. The door was opened by a porter, whoseface was strange to them both, for he had only come in for the day whilethe usual one took holiday. Old Oliver presented himself in front, andpointed at his little grandchild as Tony held her in his arms while hespoke to the porter in a voice which trembled greatly. 

"We've brought you our little girl, who is very ill, " he said, "butshe'll soon get well in here, I know. I'd like to see the doctor, andtell him all about her. "

"We're quite full, " answered the porter, filling up the doorway. 

"Full?" repeated old Oliver, in a tone of questioning. 

"Ay! all our cots are full, " he replied, "chockfull. There ain't no moreroom. We've turned two or three away this morning, when they came at theright time. This isn't the right time to bring any child here. "

"But my little love is very ill, " continued old Oliver; "this is theright place, isn't it? The place where they nurse little childrenwho are ill?"

"It's all right, " said the porter, "it's the right place enough, onlyit's brimful, and running over, as you may say. We couldn't take in onemore, if it was ever so. But you may come in and sit down in the hall fora minute or two, while I fetch one of the ladies. "

Old Oliver and Tony entered, and sat down upon a bench inside. There wasthe broad staircase, with its shallow steps, which Dolly's tiny feet hadclimbed so easily, and it led up to the warm, pleasant nurseries, wherelittle children were already falling asleep, almost painlessly, in theircosy cots. Tony could not believe that there was not room for theirdarling, who had been so willing to come to the place she knew so well, yet a sob broke from his lips, which disturbed Dolly in her sleep, forshe moaned once or twice, and stirred uneasily in his arms. The old manleaned his hands upon the top of his stick, and rested his white headupon them, until they heard light footsteps, and the rustling of adress, and they saw a lady coming down stairs to them. 

"I think there's some mistake here, ma'am, " said Oliver, his eyewandering absently about the large entrance-hall; "this is the Hospitalfor Sick Children, I think, and I've brought my little grandchild here, who is very ill indeed, yet the man at the door says there's no room forher. I think it must be a mistake. "

"No, " said the lady; "I am sorry to say it is no mistake. We are quitefull; there is not room for even one more. Indeed, we have been obligedto send cases away before to-day. Who is your recommendation from?"

"I didn't know you'd want any recommendation, " answered old Oliver, verymournfully; "she's very ill, and you could cure her here, and takebetter care of her than Tony and me, and I thought that was enough. Inever thought of getting any recommendation, and I don't know where Icould get one. "

"Mr. Ross 'ud give us one, " said Tony, eagerly. 

"Yet even then, " answered the lady, "we could not take her in until someof the cots are empty. "

"You don't know me, " interrupted Tony, eagerly; "but Mr. Ross broughtme here, a year ago now, and they cured me, and set me up strongerthan ever. They was so wery kind to me, that I couldn't think ofanythink else save bringing our little girl to 'em. I'm sure they'dtake her in, if they only knew it was her. You jest say as it's Tonyand Dolly, as everybody took such notice of, and they'll never turn heraway, I'm sure. "

"I wish we could take her, " said the lady, with tears in her eyes; "butit is impossible. We should be obliged to turn some other child out, andthat could not be done to-night. You had better bring her again in themorning, and we'll see if there is any one well enough to make room forher. Let me look at the poor child for a minute. "

She lifted up the collar of Tony's blue jacket, which covered Dolly'sface, and looked down at it pitifully. It was quite white now, and waspinched and hollow, with large blue eyes shining too brightly. Shestretched out her arms to the lady, and made a great effort to smile. 

"Put Dolly into a pretty bed, " she murmured, "where the sun shines, andshe'll soon get well and go home again to gan-pa. "

"What can I do?" cried the lady, the tears now running down her face. "The place is quite full; we cannot take in one more, not one. Bring herhere again in the morning, and we will see what can be done. "

"How many children have you got here?" asked old Oliver. 

"We have only seventy-five cots, " she answered, sobbing; "and in a winterlike this they're always full. "

"Only seventy-five!" repeated the old man, very sorrowfully. "Onlyseventy-five, and there are hundreds and hundreds of little children illin London! They are ill in houses like mine, where the sun never shines. Is there no other place like this we could take our little love to?"

"There are two or three other Hospitals, " she answered, "but they are along way off, and none of them as large as ours. They are sure to be fulljust now. I think there are not more than a hundred and fifty cots in allLondon for sick children. "

"Then there's no room for my Dolly?" he said. 

The lady shook her head without speaking, for she had her handkerchief upto her face. 

"Eh!" cried old Oliver in a wailing voice, "I don't know whatever thedear Lord 'ill say to that. "

He made a sign to Tony that they must be going home again; and the boyraised himself up with a strange weight and burden upon his heart. OldOliver put his stick down, and took Dolly into his own arms, and laid herhead down on his breast. 

"Let me carry her a little way, Tony, " he said. "She's as light as afeather, even to poor old grandpa. I'd like to carry my little love a bitof the way home. "

"I'll tell you what I can do, " said the lady, wrapping Dolly up andkissing her before she covered her pale face, "if you will tell me whereyou live I will speak to the doctor as soon as he comes in--for he is outjust now--and perhaps he will come to see her. He knows a great dealabout children, and is fond of them. "

"Thank you, thank you kindly, ma'am, " answered old Oliver, feeling alittle comforted. But when they stood outside, and the bleak wind blewabout them, and he could see the soft glimmer of the light in thewindows, within which other children were safely sheltered andcarefully tended, his spirit sank again. He tottered now and then underhis light burden; but he could not be persuaded to give up his littlechild to Tony again. These streets were quiet, with handsome houses oneach side, and from one and another there came bursts of music andlaughter as they passed by; yet Tony could catch most of the wordswhich the old man was speaking. 

[Illustration: NO ROOM FOR DOLLY]

"Dear Lord, " he said, "there's only room for seventy-five of thy littlelambs that are pining and wasting away in every dark street and alleylike mine. Whatever can thy people be thinking about? They've got theirown dear little children, who are ill sometimes, spite of all theircare; and they can send for the doctor, and do all that's possible, never looking at the money it costs; but when they are well again theynever think of the poor little ones who are sick and dying, with nobodyto help them or care for them as I care for this little one. Oh, Lord, Lord! let my little love live! Yet thou knows what is best, and thou'ltdo what is best. Thou loves her more than I do; and see, Lord, she isvery ill indeed. "

They reached home at last, after a weary and heartbroken journey, andcarried Dolly in and laid her upon old Oliver's bed. She was wide awakenow, and looked very peaceful, smiling quietly into both their faces asthey bent over her. Tony gazed deep down into her eyes, and met a glancefrom them which sent a strange tremor through him. He crept silentlyaway, and stole into his dark bed under the counter, where he stretchedhimself upon his face, and buried his mouth in the chaff pillow to chokehis sobs. What was going to happen to Dolly? What could it be that madehim afraid of looking again into her patient and tranquil little face?

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE GOLDEN CITY. 

Tony lay there in the dark, overwhelmed by his unusual terror and sorrow, until he heard the voice of old Oliver calling his name feebly. Hehurried to him, and found him still beside the bed where Dolly was lying. He had taken off most of her clothes, and put her white nightgown overthe rest, that she might sleep warmly in them all the night, for herlittle hands and feet felt very chilly to his touch. The fire had goneout while they were away, and the grate looked very black and cheerless. The room was in great disorder, just as they had left it, and the gas, which was burning high, cast a cruel glare upon it all. But Tony sawnothing except the dear face of Dolly, resting on one check upon thepillow, with her curly hair tossed about it in confusion, and her openeyes gathering a strange film. Beppo had made his way to her side, andpushed his head under her lifeless little hand, which tried to pat it nowand then. Old Oliver was sitting on the bedstead, his eyes fastened uponher, and his whole body trembled violently. Tony sank down upon hisknees, and flung his arm over Dolly, as if to save her from the unseenpower which threatened to take her away from them. 

"Don't ky, gan-pa, " she said, softly; "don't ky more than a minute. NorTony. Are I going to die, gan-pa?"

"Yes, my little love, " cried old Oliver, moaning as he said it. 

"Where are I going to?" asked Dolly, very faintly. 

"You're going to see my Lord and Master, " he said; "him as loves littlechildren so, and carries them in his arms, and never lets them besorrowful or ill or die again. "

"Does he live in a bootiful place?" she asked, again. 

"It's a more beautiful place than I can tell, " answered old Oliver. "TheLord Jesus gives them light brighter than the sun; and the streets areall of gold, and there are many little children there, who always see theface of their Father. "

"Dolly's going rere, " said the little child, solemnly. 

She smiled for a minute or two, holding Beppo's ear between her failingfingers, and playing with it. Tony's eyes were dim with tears, yet hecould see her clear face clearly through them. What could he do? Wasthere no one to help?

"Master, master!" he cried. "If the Lord Jesus is here he can save her. Ask him, master. "

But old Oliver paid no heed to him. For the child who was passing awayfrom him he was all eye and ear, watching and listening as keenly as inhis best and strongest days; but he was blind and deaf to everything elsearound him. Tony's voice could not reach his brain. 

"Will gan-pa come rere?" whispered the failing and faltering voice ofDolly. 

"Very soon, " he answered; a radiant smile coming to his face, which madeher smile as her eyes caught the glory of it. "Very, very soon, my littlelove. You'll be there to meet me when I come. "

"Dolly'll watch for gan-pa, " she murmured, with long pauses between thewords, which seemed to drop one by one upon Tony's ear; "and Dolly'llwatch at the door for Tony to come home; and she'll fret ever so if henever comes. "

Tony felt her stir restlessly under his arm, and stretch her tiny limbsupon the bed as if she were very tired, and the languid eyelids droopedslowly till they quite hid her blue eyes, and she sighed softly aschildren sigh when they fall asleep, weary of their play. Old Oliver laidhis shaking hand tenderly upon her head. 

"Dear Lord!" he said, "take my little love to thyself. I give herup to thee. "

It seemed to Tony as if a thick mist of darkness fell all about him, andas if he were sinking down, down, very low into some horrible pit wherehe would never see the light of day again. But by-and-bye he came tohimself, and found old Oliver sobbing in short, heavy sobs, and swayinghimself to and fro, while Beppo was licking Dolly's hand, and barkingwith a sharp, quiet bark, as he had been wont to do when he wanted her toplay with him. The child's small features were quite still, but there wasan awful smile upon them such as there had never been before, and Tonycould not bear to look upon it. He crossed her tiny hands lightly overone another upon her breast, and then he lifted Beppo away gently, anddrew the bed-clothes about her, so as to hide her smiling face. 

"Master, " he cried, "master, is she gone?"

Old Oliver only answered by a deep moan; and Tony put his arm about him, and raised him up. 

"Come to your own chair, master, " he said. 

He yielded to Tony like a child, and seated himself in the chair, wherehe had so often sat and watched Dolly while he smoked his pipe. The boyput his pipe between his fingers; but he only let it fall to the ground, where it broke into many pieces. Tony did not know what to do, nor whereto go for any help. 

"Lord, " he said, "if you really love the old master, do something forhim; for I don't know whatever to do, now little Dolly's gone. "

He sat down on his old box, staring at Oliver and the motionless form onthe bed, with a feeling of despair tugging at his heart. He couldscarcely believe it was all true; for it was not very long since--only itseemed like long years--since he had leaped over the counter in hislight-heartedness. But he had not sat there many minutes before he hearda distinct, rather loud knock at the shop-door, and he ran hastily to askwho was there. 

"Antony, " said a voice he knew very well, "I have come with the doctor, to see what we can do for your little girl. "

In an instant Tony opened the door, and as Mr. Ross entered the boy flunghis arms round him, and hid his face against him, sobbing bitterly. 

"Oh! you've come too late, " he cried, "you've come too late! Dolly'sdead, and I'm afraid the master's going away from me as well. Theycouldn't take her in, and she died after we had brought her home. "

The doctor and Mr. Ross went on into the inner room, and Tony pointedsilently to the bed where Dolly lay. Old Oliver roused himself at thesound of strange voices, and, leaning upon Tony's shoulder, he staggeredto the bedside, and drew the clothes away from her dear, smiling face. 

"I don't murmur, " he said. "My dear Lord can't do anything unkind. He'llcome and speak to me presently, and comfort me; but just now I'm deaf andblind, even to him. I've not forgot him, and he hasn't forgot me; butthere's a many things ought to be done, and I cannot think what. "

"Leave it all to us, " said Mr. Ross, leading him back to his chair. "Buthave you no neighbour you can go and stay with for to-night? You are anold man, and you must not lose your night's sleep. "

"No, " he answered, shaking his head; "I'd rather stay here in my ownplace, if I'd a hundred other places to go to. I'm not afraid of mylittle love, --no, no! When everything is done as ought to be done, I'll lie in my own bed and watch her. It won't be lonesome, as long asshe's here. "

In an hour's time all was settled for that night. A little resting-placehad been made for the dead child in a corner of the room, where she laycovered with a coarse white sheet, which was the last one left of thosewhich old Oliver's wife had spun in her girlhood. The old man had givenhis promise to go to bed when Mr. Ross and the doctor were gone; and heslept lightly, his face turned towards the place where his little lovewas sleeping. A faint light burnt all night in the room, and Tony, whocould not fall asleep, sat in the chimney-corner, with Beppo upon hisknees. There was an unutterable, quiet sorrow within him, mingled with astrange awe. That little child, who had played with him, and kissed himonly a day since, was already gone into the unseen world, which was sovery near to him now, though it had seemed so very far away and so emptybefore. It must be very near, since she had gone to it so quickly; andit was no longer empty, for Dolly was there; and she had said she wouldwatch at the door till he came home. 

CHAPTER XX. 

A FRESH DAY DAWNS. 

Old Oliver and Tony saw their darling buried in a little grave in acemetery miles away from their own home, and then they returned, desolateand bereaved, to the deserted city, which seemed empty indeed to them. The house had never looked so very dark and dreary before. Yet from timeto time old Oliver forgot that Dolly was gone altogether, and could nevercome back; for he would call her in his eager, quavering tones, or searchfor her in some of the hiding-places, where she had often played athide-and-seek with him. When mealtimes came round he would put outDolly's plate and cup, which had been bought on purpose for her, with gayflowers painted upon them; and in the evening, over his pipe, when he hadbeen used to talk to his Lord, he now very often said nothing but repeatagain and again Dolly's little prayer, which he had himself taught her, "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild. " It was quite plain to Tony that it wouldnever do to leave him alone in his house and shop. 

"I've give up my place as errand-boy, " he said to Mr. Ross, "'cause theold master grows worse and worse for forgetting, and I must mind shop forhim now as well as I can. He's not off his head, as you may say; he'ssharp enough sometimes; but there's no trusting to him being sharpalways. He talks to Dolly as if she was here, and could hear him, till Ican't hardly bear it. But I'm very fond of him, --fonder of him thananythink else, 'cept my little Dolly; and I've made up my mind as hisMaster shall be my master, and he's always ready to tell me all he knowsabout him. I'm no ways afeared of not getting along. "

Tony found that they got along very well. Mr. Ross made a point of goingin to visit them every week, and of seeing how the business prospered inthe boy's hands; and he put as much as he could in his way. Sad andsorrowful as the days were, they passed over, one after another, bringingwith them at least the habit of living without Dolly. Every Sundayafternoon, however, old Oliver and Tony walked slowly through thestreets, for the old man could only creep along with Tony's help, tillthey reached the Children's Hospital; but they never passed the door, norentered in through it. Old Oliver would stand for a few minutes leaningheavily on Tony's shoulder, and trembling from head to foot, as his eyeswandered over all the front of the building; and then a low, wailing crywould break from his lips, "Dear Lord! there was no room for my littlelove, but thou hast found room for her!"

It was a reopening of Tony's sorrow when Aunt Charlotte came up from thecountry to find that the little child had gone away altogether, leavingonly her tiny frocks and clothes, which were neatly folded up in adrawer, where old Oliver treasured up a keepsake or two of his wife's. She discovered, too, that old Oliver had forgotten to write toSusan, --indeed, his hand had become too trembling to hold a pen, --and shewrote herself; but her letter did not reach Calcutta before Susan and herhusband had left it, being homeward bound. 

It was as nearly two years as it could well be since the summer eveningwhen Susan Raleigh had sent her little girl into old Oliver's shop, bidding her be a good girl till she came home, and thinking it would beonly three days before she saw her again. It was nearly two years, and anevening something like it, when the door was darkened by the entrance ofa tall, fine-looking man, dressed as a soldier, but with one empty sleevelooped up across his chest. Tony was busy behind the counter wrapping upmagazines, which he was going to take out the next morning, and thesoldier looked very inquisitively at him. 

"Hallo! my lad, who are you?" he asked, in a tone of surprise. 

"I'm Antony Oliver, " he said; for of late he had taken to call himself byhis old master's name. 

"Antony Oliver!" repeated the stranger; "I never heard of you before. "

"Well, I'm only Tony, " he answered; "but I live with old Mr. Oliver now, and call him grandfather. He likes it, and it does me good. It's likesomebody belonging to me. "

"Why! how long have you called him grandfather?" asked the soldier again. 

"Ever since our little Dolly died, " said Tony, in a faltering voice. 

"Dolly dead!" exclaimed the man, looking ready to fall down; for hisface went very white, and he leaned upon the counter with his one hand. "Oh! my poor Susan!--my poor, dear girl!--however can I tell her thisbad news?"

"Who are you?" cried Tony. "Are you Dolly's father? Oh, she's dead!She died last January, and we are more lonesome without her than youcan think. "

"Let me see poor Susan's father, " he said, after a minute or two, andwith a very troubled face. 

"Ay, come in, " said Tony, lifting up the flap of the counter, under whichDolly had so often played at hide-and-seek. "He's more hisself again; buthis memory's bad yet. I know everythink about her, though; because shewas so fond of me, and me of her. Come in. "

Raleigh entered the room, and saw old Oliver sitting in his arm-chair, with a pipe in his hand, and a very tranquil look upon his wrinkled face. The gas-light shone upon the glittering epaulettes and white sash of thesoldier, and the old man fastened upon him a very keen, yet doubtful gazeof inquiry. 

"Don't you know me, father?" cried Raleigh, almost unable to utter aword. "It's your poor Susan's husband, and Dolly's father. "

"Dolly's father!" repeated old Oliver, rising from his chair, andresting his hand upon Raleigh's shoulder. "Do you know that the dear Lordhas taken her to be where he is in glory?"

"Yes, I know it, " he said, with a sob. 

He put the old man back in his seat, and drew a chair close up to him. They sat thus together in sorrowful silence for some minutes, until oldOliver laid his hand upon the empty sleeve on Raleigh's breast. 

"You've lost your arm, " he said, pityingly. 

"Ay!" answered Raleigh; "our colonel was set upon by a tiger in thejungle, and I saved him; but the brute tore my arm, and craunchedthe bone between his teeth till it had to come off. It's spoiled mefor a soldier. "

"Yes, yes, poor fellow, " answered old Oliver, "but the Lord knew allabout it. "

"That he did, " answered Raleigh; "and he's taught me a bit more abouthimself than I used to know. I'm not spoiled to be His soldier. But Idon't know much about the service yet, and I shall want you to teach me, father. You'll let me call you father, for poor Susan's sake, won't you?"

"To be sure--to be sure, " said old Oliver, keeping his hand still uponthe empty sleeve on Raleigh's breast. 

"Well, father, " he continued, "as I am not fit for a soldier, and as thecolonel was hurt too, we're all come home together. Only Susan's gonestraight on with her lady and our little girl, and sent me through Londonto see after you and Dolly. "

"Your little girl?" said Oliver questioningly. 

"Yes, the one born in India. Her name's Mary, but we call her Polly. Susan said it made her think of our little Dolly at home. Dear! dear! Idon't know however I shall let her know. "

Another fit of silence fell upon them, and Tony left them together, forit was time to put up the shop shutters. It seemed just like the nightwhen he had followed Susan and the little girl, and loitered outside inthe doorway opposite, to see what would happen after she had left her inthe shop. He fancied he was a ragged, shoeless boy again, nobody lovinghim, or caring for him, and that he saw old Oliver and Dolly standing onthe step, looking out for the mother, who had gone away, never, never tosee her darling again. Tony's heart was very full; and when he tried towhistle, he was obliged to give it up, lest he should break out into sobsand crying. When he went back into the house Raleigh was talking again. 

"So Susan and me are to have one of the lodges of the colonel's park, "he said, "and I'm to be a sort of bailiff to look after the other outdoorservants about the garden and premises. It's a house with three bedrooms, and a very pleasant sort of little parlour, as well as a kitchen andscullery place downstairs. You can see the Wrekin from the parlourwindow, and the moon over it; and it's not so far away but what we couldget a spring-cart sometimes, and drive over to your old home under theWrekin. As soon as ever the colonel's lady told Susan where it was, shecried out, 'That's the very place for father!' You'd like to come andlive with your own Susan again, in your own country; wouldn't you now?"

"Yes, yes; for a little while, " answered old Oliver, with a smileupon his face. 

Tony felt a strange and very painful shrinking at his heart. If the oldman went away to live with his daughter in the country, his home would belost to him, and he would have to go out into the great city again alone, with nobody to love. He could get his living now in a respectable manner, and there was no fear of his being driven to sleep in Covent Garden, orunder the bridges. But he would be alone, and all the links which boundhim to Dolly and old Oliver would be snapped asunder. He wondered if theLord Jesus would let such a thing be. 

"But I couldn't leave Tony, " cried old Oliver, suddenly; and putting onhis spectacles to look for him. 

"Come here, Tony. He's like my own son to me, bless him! He calls megrandfather, and kept my heart up when I should have sunk very lowwithout him. My Master gave him to me the very same night he gave me mylittle love. No, no; Dolly loved Tony, and Susan must come here to seeme, but I could never leave my boy. "

Old Oliver had put his arm round Tony, drawing him closer and closer tohim as he spoke, until his withered cheek pressed fondly against hisface. Since Dolly died neither of them had felt such a thrill ofhappiness as now. 

"The colonel and his lady must be told about this, " said Raleigh, afterhe had heard all that Tony had been and done for old Oliver; and when hewas obliged to go away for the night, the soldier gave him such a cordialgrasp of the hand, as set all his fingers tingling, and his heartthrobbing with exultation. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

POLLY. 

The lodge stood in a very lovely place, upon a slope of ground, whichrose still higher to where the colonel's grand house was situated. Therewas a porch before the door, built of rough logs of pines, covered withivy and honeysuckle, and with seats in it, where you could sit and lookout over a wide, rich plain, with little hills and dales in it, stretching far away towards the sky-line, where some distant mountainslay, so like to clouds, that you could scarcely tell which were soft andmisty vapours, and which were solid and everlasting hills. The Severn ranthrough the beautiful plain with so many windings, sometimes lying inshadow under deep banks, and sometimes glistening and sparkling in thesunlight, that it looked more like many little pools scattered about themeadows than one long, continuous river. Not very far away, as Raleighhad said, stood the Wrekin, purple in the evening haze, but by day soplain, that one could see the great rock on its summit, which in oldentimes served as an altar to the god of fire. 

Susan was very busy, and had been very busy all day over twothings--preparing the house for the reception of her father, whom she hadnot seen for so many years, and in teaching her little girl, who was noweighteen months old, to say grand-pa. The one work was quite finished;everything was ready for old Oliver, and now she was waiting and watchingto see the colonel's spring cart arrive from the station with herhusband, who was gone to meet old Oliver and Tony. For Tony was not onany account to be parted from the old man--so said the colonel and hislady--but was to be employed about the garden, and as general errand boyfor the house, and to live at the lodge with old Oliver. Susan's eyeswere red, for as she had been busy about her work, she had several timescried bitterly over her lost little girl; but she had resolved withinherself not to shed a single tear after her father was come, lest sheshould spoil the gladness of his coming home to her. At last the cartcame in sight, and stopped, and Raleigh and Tony sprang out to helpOliver to get down, while Susan put down Polly in the porch, and ran tothrow her arms round her dear old father's neck. 

He was very quiet, poor old Oliver. He had not spoken a word since heleft the station, but had gazed about him as they drove along thepleasant lane with almost a troubled look upon his tranquil face. Whenhis dim eyes caught the first glimpse of the Wrekin he lifted his hatfrom his white and trembling head, as if to greet it like some great anddear friend, after so many years of absence. Now he stood still at thewicket, leaning upon Susan's arm, and looking round him again with agentle yet sad smile. The air was so fresh, after the close streets ofLondon, that to him it seemed even full of scents of numberless flowers;and the sun was shining everywhere, upon the blossoms in the garden, andthe fine old elm-trees in the park, and the far-off hills. He graspedTony's hand in his, and bade him look well about him. 

"If only my little love had had a bit of sunshine!" he said, with amournful and tender patience in his feeble voice. 

But just then--scarcely had he finished speaking--there came a shrill, merry little scream behind them, so like Dolly's, that both old Oliverand Tony turned round quickly. It could not be the same, for this littlechild was even smaller than Dolly; but as she came pattering andtottering down the garden-walk towards them, they saw that she had thesame fair curly hair, and blue eyes, and rosy cheeks that Dolly had hadtwo years before. She ran and hid her face in her mother's gown; butSusan lifted her into her arms, and held her towards old Oliver. 

"Say grand-pa, and kiss him, Polly, " she said, coaxingly. 

The little child held back shyly for a minute, for old Oliver's head wasshaking much more than usual now; but at length she put her two softlittle hands to his face, and held it between them, while she kissed him. 

"Gan-pa!" she cried, crowing and chuckling with delight. 

They went indoors to the pleasant parlour, where old Oliver's arm-chairwas set ready for him by the side of the fire, for Susan had kindled afire, saying that he would feel the fresh air blowing from the Wrekin;and Polly sat first on his knee, and then upon Tony's, who could not keephis eyes from following all her movements. But still it was not their ownDolly who had made the old house in the close alley in London so happyand so merry for them. She was gone home to the Father's house, and waswatching for them there. Tony might be a long time before he joined her, but for old Oliver the parting would be but short. As he sat in theevening dusk, very peacefully and contentedly, while Susan sang Polly tosleep in the kitchen, Tony heard him say half aloud, as his custom was, "Yet a little, and I will come again, and receive you unto myself, thatwhere I am ye may be also. Even so, come, Lord Jesus!"