e question came in a low, gasping voice, "I
say, guvner, are you going to send me away?" he sat down on the end of
the sofa and answered:

"No, Wikkey, you are going to stay with me."

"Always?"

Lawrence hesitated, not knowing quite what to say.

"Always is a long time off; we needn't think about that; you are going
to stay with me now;" and then feeling some compensation necessary for
the weakness of his conduct, he added very gravely, "that is, Wikkey, if
you promise to be a good boy and to mind what I and Mrs. Evans say to
you, and always to speak the truth."

"I'll be as good as ever I know how," said Wikkey, meekly; "and I reckon
I sha'n't have much call to tell lies. Yes, I'll be good, guvner, if you
let me stop;" and again the black eyes were raised to his in dog-like
appeal, and fixed on his face with such intensity that Lawrence felt
almost embarrassed, and glad to escape after eliciting the "hag's"
address, and promising to return in the evening.

"I will look in this evening and tell you what I have done," Reginald
said, as they went out together; "and also to get a peep at Wikkey,
about whom I am not a little curious."

"Yes, do, Reg; I shall want some help, you know, for I suppose I've got
a young heathen to deal with, and if he's going to die and all that, one
must teach him something, and I'm sure I can't do it."

"He has got the first element of religion in him, at any rate. He has
learned to look _up_."

Lawrence reddened, and gave a short laugh, saying--

"I'm not so sure of that;" and the two men went on their respective
ways.

The "hag" began by taking up the offensive line, uttering dark threats
as to "police" and "rascals as made off without paying what they owed."
Then she assumed the defensive, "lone widows as has to get their living
and must look sharp after their honest earnings;" and finally became
pathetic over the "motherless boy" on whom she had seemingly lavished an
almost parental affection; but she could give no account of Wikkey's
antecedents beyond the fact that his mother had died there some years
since, the only trace remaining of her being an old Bible, which Mrs.
Skimmidge made a great merit of not having sold when she had been forced
to take what "bits of things" were left by the dead woman in payment of
back rent, omitting to mention that no one had been anxious to purchase
it. Yes, she would part with it to his reverence for the sum of two
shillings; and Mr. Trevo