on his skin. What hurt had been done to him? How
was it that he could not bear to walk? He took off his new boots, and
tried once more, but with no better success. He could not endure the
agony of standing or moving.

Yet he must move; he must get up and walk. If he did not go home, they
would think he had run away again, for fear of meeting Dolly's aunt. At
that thought he set off to crawl homewards upon his hands and knees, with
suppressed groans, as his foot trailed uselessly along the ground. Yet he
knew he could not advance very far in this manner. What if he should have
to lie all night upon the hard paving-stones! for he could not remember
ever having seen a policeman in these back streets; and there did not
seem 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 he
dragged himself along. If he stayed out all night, he must die of cold
and pain before morning.

But if that was true which old Oliver said so often, that the Lord Jesus
Christ loved him, and that he was always with those whom he loved, then
he was not alone and helpless even here, in the deserted street, with the
ice and darkness of a winter's night about him. Oh! if he could but feel
the 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 helping
him 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 and
sick. It became too much for him at last, however, and he drew himself
into 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 growing
glazed and his ears dull, when a footstep came briskly up the street, and
some one, whom he could not now see for the strange dimness of his
sight, 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 the
crossing,--my little fourpenny-bit, I call you. What brings you sitting
here 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 along
Tony's leg till he came to the plac