Oliver could not hear the sob
which 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 slept
under the counter, he could often hear the old man talking aloud to his
invisible Friend as he smoked his pipe; and once or twice Tony crept
noiselessly to the door and watched him, after he had finished smoking,
kneel down and hide his face in his hands for some minutes together. But
the boy could see nothing, and his wish had not been granted; even
though, as he grew more instructed, he followed Oliver's example, and,
kneeling down behind the counter, whispered out a prayer for it. To be
sure his life was easier, especially the nights of it; for he never now
went hungry and starved to bed upon some cold, hard door-step. But it was
old Oliver who did that for him, not old Oliver's Master. So far as he
knew, the Lord Jesus had taken no notice whatever of him; and the
feeling, 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 solitary
lad. Tony always woke early in the morning, and if it rained he would run
for 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 as
much as the old man could do to provide for himself and Dolly. Sometimes
Tony saw him at the till, counting over his pence with rather a troubled
face. Once, after receiving a silver fourpenny piece, an extraordinary
and undreamed of event, Tony dropped it, almost with a feeling of guilt,
through the slit in the counter which communicated with the till. But
Oliver was so bewildered by its presence among the coppers, that he was
compelled to confess what he had done, saying it would have cost him
more than that for lodgings these cold nights.

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

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

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

It seemed ample payment to Tony, who went down on his knees to have the
kisses pressed