ul dread lest she should be
left to a life of poverty and want, when he should be called to leave
her. This fear so overmastered him that it led him to the gaming-table,
and--for her sake--he became a professional gambler, hoping to lay by a
vast fortune for her future use. But he lost heavily and constantly,
until his slender resources were exhausted, and he was obliged to borrow
money from the rich little dwarf money-lender, Quilp, pledging his stock
as security for the loans.

But of all this Little Nell knew nothing, or she would have implored
him to give up the dangerous practice. She only knew that, after her
monotonous days, uncheckered by variety and uncheered by pleasant
companionship, the old man, who seemed always agitated by some hidden
care, and weak and wandering in his mind, taking his cloak and hat and
stick, would pass from the house, leaving her alone through the dreary
evenings and long solitary nights.

It was not the absence of such pleasures as make young hearts beat high,
that brought tears to Nell's eyes. It was the sight of the old man's
feeble state of mind and body, and the fear that some night he should
fail to come home, having been overtaken by illness or sudden death.
Such fears as these drove the roses from her smooth young cheeks, and
stilled the songs which before had rung through the dim old shop, while
the gay, lightsome step passed among the dusty treasures. Now she seldom
smiled or sang, and among the few bits of comedy in her sad days, were
the visits of Kit Nubbles, her grandfather's errand boy, a shock-headed,
shambling, comical lad, whose devotion to the beautiful child verged on
worship. Appreciating Nell's loneliness, Kit visited the shop as often
as possible, and the exquisite oddity and awkwardness of his manner so
amused her that at sight of him she would give way to genuine merriment.
Kit himself, being always flattered by the sensation he produced, would
often burst into a loud roar, and stand with his mouth wide open, and
his eyes nearly shut, laughing violently.

Twice every week Nell gave the lad a writing lesson, to the great mirth
and enjoyment of them both, and each time Kit tucked up his sleeves,
squared his elbows, and put his face very close to the copy-book,
squinting horribly at the lines, fairly wallowing in blots, and daubing
himself with ink up to the roots of his hair,--and if he did by accident
form a letter properly, he immediately smeared it out again