when I see
the 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 to
no remark until after the shutters were in their place. Then he surveyed
himself as well as he could, with an air of satisfaction. His face and
hands were clean, and his skin looked very white through the holes in his
tattered clothes; even his feet, except for an unavoidable under surface
of dust, were unsoiled. His jacket and trousers appeared somewhat more
torn than the evening before; but they bore every mark of having been
washed 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 to
get my rags done, so I did 'em down under the bridge, when the tide were
going 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'll
give you a bit of breakfast with her and me."

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

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

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

Oliver looked questioningly at the boy, who returned a frank, honest
gaze, 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 as
to whether he had not done a very foolish thing; but he soon forgot it
when he returned to the breakfast-table; and long before he himself could
have reached the place and returned, Tony was back again with his right
number of papers.

Before many minutes Tony was sitting upon an old box at a little distance
from the table, where Oliver sat with his grandchild. A basin of coffee
and a large hunch of bread rested upon his knees, and Beppo was sniffing
round him with a doubtful air. Dolly was shy in this strange company,
and ate her breakfast with a sedate gravity which filled both her
companions with astonishment and admiration. When the meal was finished,
old Oliver took