by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER IV.
OLD OLIVER'S MASTER.
Very early in the morning, before the tardy daylight could creep into thedarkened room, old Oliver was up and busy. He had been in the habit ofdoing for himself, as he called it, ever since his daughter had forsakenhim, and he was by nature fastidiously clean and neat. But now therewould be additional duties for him during the next three days; for therewould be Dolly to wash, and dress, and provide breakfast for. Every fewminutes he stole a look at her lying still asleep; and as soon as hediscovered symptoms of awaking, he hastily lifted Beppo on to the bed,that her opening eyes should be greeted by some familiar sight. Shestretched out her wonderful little hands, and caught hold of the dog'srough head before venturing to lift her eyelids, while Oliver looked onin speechless delight. At length she ventured to peep slyly at him, andthen addressed herself to Beppo.
"What am I to call ris funny old man, Beppo?" she asked.
"I am your grandpa, my darling," said Oliver, in his softest voice.
"Are you God-bless-gan-pa?" inquired Dolly, sitting up on her pillow, andstaring very hard with her blue eyes into his wrinkled face.
"Yes, I am," he answered, looking at her anxiously.
"Dolly knows," she said, counting upon her little fingers; "rere'sfather, and mammy, and Beppo; and now rere's gan-pa. Dolly'll get upnow."
She flung her arms suddenly about his neck and kissed him, while oldOliver trembled with intense joy. It was quite a marvel to him how shehelped him to dress her, laughing merrily at the strange mistakes he madein putting on her clothes the wrong side before; and when he assured herthat her mother would come back very soon, she seemed satisfied to put upwith any passing inconvenience. The shop, with its duties, and thenecessity of getting in his daily stock of newspapers, entirely slippedhis memory; and he was only recalled to it by a very loud rapping at thedoor as he was pouring out Dolly's breakfast. To his great surprise hediscovered that he had forgotten to take down his shutters, though it waspast the hour when his best customers passed by.
The person knocking proved to be none other than Tony, who greeted theold man's appearance with a prolonged whistle, and a grave andreproachful stare.
"Come," he said, in a tone of remonstrance, "this'll never do, you know.Business is business, and must be minded. You pretty nearly frightenedme into fits; anybody could have knocked me down with a straw when I seethe 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 tono remark until after the shutters were in their place. Then he surveyedhimself as well as he could, with an air of satisfaction. His face andhands were clean, and his skin looked very white through the holes in histattered clothes; even his feet, except for an unavoidable under surfaceof dust, were unsoiled. His jacket and trousers appeared somewhat moretorn than the evening before; but they bore every mark of having beenwashed 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 toget my rags done, so I did 'em down under the bridge, when the tide weregoing 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'llgive you a bit of breakfast with her and me."
"You haven't got sich a thing as a daily paper, have you?" asked Tony, ina patronizing tone.
"Not to-day's paper, I'm afraid," he said.
"I'm afraid not," continued Tony; "overslept yourself, eh? Not as I canread myself; but there are folks going by as can, and might p'raps buyone here as well as anywhere else. Shall I run and get 'em for you, nowI'm on my legs?"
Oliver looked questioningly at the boy, who returned a frank, honestgaze, 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 asto whether he had not done a very foolish thing; but he soon forgot itwhen he returned to the breakfast-table; and long before he himself couldhave reached the place and returned, Tony was back again with his rightnumber of papers.
Before many minutes Tony was sitting upon an old box at a little distancefrom the table, where Oliver sat with his grandchild. A basin of coffeeand a large hunch of bread rested upon his knees, and Beppo was sniffinground him with a doubtful air. Dolly was shy in this strange company,and ate her breakfast with a sedate gravity which filled both hercompanions with astonishment and admiration. When the meal was finished,old Oliver took his daughter's letter from his waistcoat pocket and readit aloud to Tony, who listened with undivided interest.
"Then she's your own little 'un," he said, with a sigh of disappointment."You'll never give her up to me, if you get tired of her,--nor to thep'lice neither," he added, with a brightening face.
"No, no, no!" answered Oliver, emphatically. "Besides, her mother'scoming on Friday. I wouldn't give her up for all the world, bless her!"
"And he's 'listed!" said Tony, in a tone of envy. "They wouldn't take meyet a while, if I offered to go. But who's that she speaks of?--'forChrist's sake, if I am worthy to use his name.' Who is he?"
"Don't you know?" asked Oliver.
"No, never heard tell of him before," he answered. "Is he any friend o'yours?" [A]
[Footnote A: It may be necessary to assure some readers that thisignorance is not exaggerated. The City Mission Reports, and similarrecords, show that such cases are too frequent.]
"Ay!" said Oliver; "he's my only friend, my best friend. And he's mymaster, besides."
"And she thinks he'd be angry if you turned the little girl away?"pursued Tony.
"Yes, yes; he'd be very angry," said old Oliver, thoughtfully; "it 'udgrieve him to his heart. Why, he's always loved little children, andnever had them turned away from himself, whatever he was doing. If shehadn't been my own little girl, I daren't have turned her out of mydoors. No, no, dear Lord, thee knows as I'd have taken care of her, forthy sake."
He spoke absently, in a low voice, as though talking to some personwhom Tony could not see, and the boy was silent a minute or two,thinking busily.
"How long have you worked for that master o' yours?" he asked, at last.
"Not very long," replied Oliver, regretfully. "I used to fancy I wasworking for him years and years ago; but, dear me! it was poor sorto'work; and now I can't do very much. Only he knows how old I am, and hedoesn't care so that I love him, which I do, Tony."
"I should think so!" said the boy, falling again into busy thought, fromwhich he aroused himself by getting up from his box, and rubbing hisfingers through his wet and tangled hair.
"He takes to children and little 'uns?" he said, in a questioning tone.
"Ay, dearly!" answered old Oliver.
"I reckon he'd scarcely take me for a man yet," said Tony, at the sametime drawing himself up to his full height; "though I don't know as Ishould care to work for him. I'd rather have a crossing, and be my ownmaster. But if I get hard up, do you think he'd take to me, if you spokea word for me?"
"Are you sure you don't know anything about him?" asked Oliver.
"Not I; how should I?" answered Tony. "Why, you don't s'pose as I knowall the great folks in London, though I've seen sights and sights of 'emriding about in their carriages. I told you I weren't much bigger nor herthere when mother died, and I've picked up my living up and down thestreets anyhow, and other lads have helped me on, till I can help 'em onnow. It don't cost much to keep a boy on the streets. There's nothink topay for coals, or rent, or beds, or furniture, or anythink; only yourvictuals, and a rag now and then. All I want's a broom and a crossing,and then shouldn't I get along just? But I don't know how to get 'em."
"Perhaps the Lord Jesus would give them to you, if you'd ask him," saidOliver, earnestly.
"
Who's he?" inquired Tony, with an eager face.
"Him--Christ. It's his other name," answered the old man.
"Ah! I see," he said, nodding. "Well, if I can't get 'em myself,I'll think about it. He'll want me to work for him, you know. Wheredoes he live?"
"I'll tell you all about him, if you'll come to see me," replied Oliver.
"Well," said the boy, "I'll just look in after Friday, and see if thelittle 'un's mother's come back. Goodbye,--good-bye, little miss."
He could take Dolly's hand into his own this morning, and he looked downcuriously at it,--a small, rosy, dimpled hand, such as he had never seenbefore so closely. A lump rose in his throat, and his eyelids smartedwith tears again. It was such a little thing, such a pretty little thing,he said to himself, covering it fondly with his other hand. There was nofear that Tony would forget to come back to old Oliver's house.
"Thank you for my breakfast," he said, with a choking voice; "only ifI do come to see you, it'll be to see her again--not for anythink asI can get."
