he is brought to bay, and tumbles down,
lying down gasping at his pursuer until the woman comes up.

"Oh you Jo," cries the woman, "what, I have found you at last!"

"Jo?" repeats Allan, looking at him with attention,--"Jo? Stay--to be
sure, I recollect this lad, some time ago, being brought before the
coroner!"

"Yes, I see you once afore at the Inkwich," whimpered the boy. "What of
that? Can't you never let such an unfortnet as me alone? An't I unfortnet
enough for you yet? How unfortnet do you want me for to be? I've been
a-chivied and a-chivied, fust by one on you and nixt by another on you,
till I'm worritted to skins and bones. The Inkwich warn't my fault; I done
nothink. He wos very good to me he wos; he wos the only one I knowed to
speak to me as ever come across my crossing. It ain't very likely I should
want him to be Inkwich'd. I only wish I wos myself!"

He says it with such a pitiable air that Allan Woodcourt is softened
toward him. He says to the woman, "What has he done?"--to which she only
replies, shaking her head,----

"Oh you Jo! you Jo! I have found you at last!"

"What has he done?" says Allan. "Has he robbed you?"

"No, sir, no. Robbed me? He did nothing but what was kind-hearted by me,
and that's the wonder of it. But he was along with me, sir, down at St.
Albans, ill, and a young lady--Lord bless her for a good friend to
me!--took pity on him and took him home--took him home and made him
comfortable; and like a thankless monster he ran away in the night and
never has been seen or heard from since, till I set eyes on him just now.
And the young lady, that was such a pretty dear, caught his illness, lost
her beautiful looks, and wouldn't hardly be known for the same young lady
now. Do you know it? You ungrateful wretch, do you know that this is all
along of her goodness to you?" demands the woman.

The boy, stunned by what he hears, falls to smearing his dirty forehead
with his dirty palm, and to staring at the ground, and to shaking from
head to foot.

"You hear what she says!" Allan says to Joe. "You hear what she says, and
I know it's true. Have you been here ever since?"

"Wishermaydie if I seen Tom-all-Alone's till this blessed morning,"
replies Jo, hoarsely.

"Why have you come here now?"

Jo looks all around and finally answers, "I don't know how to do nothink
and I can't get nothink to do. I'm very poor and ill and I thought I'd
come back here when there warn't nobody about an