Alone in London Page 8

  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.