Alone in London

by Oliver Optic

  CHAPTER XV.

  TONY'S FUTURE PROSPECTS.

  Old Oliver and Dolly made several visits to Tony while he was in thehospital. Every Sunday afternoon they went back to it, until its greatdoor, and wide staircase, and sunny ward, became almost as familiar tothem as their own dull little house. Tony recovered quickly, yet he wasthere some weeks before the doctor pronounced him strong enough to turnout again to rough it in the world. As he grew better he learned a numberof things which were making him a wiser, as well as a stronger boy,before the time came for him to leave.

  The day before he was to go out of hospital, his friend, Mr. Ross, whohad been often to see him, called for the last time, and found him in theroom where the little patients who were nearly well were at playtogether. Some of them were making believe to have a feast, with a smalldinner-service of wooden plates and dishes, and a few bits oforange-peel, and biscuits; but Tony was sitting quietly and gravely onone side, looking on from a distance. He had never learned to play.

  "Antony," said Mr. Ross--he was the only person who ever called himAntony, and it seemed to make more of a man of him--"what are youthinking to do when you leave here to-morrow?"

  "I s'pose I must go back to my crossing," answered Tony, lookingvery grave.

  "No, I think I can do better for you than that," said his friend, "Ihave a sister living out in the country, about fifty miles from London;and she wants a boy to help the gardener, and run on errands for thehouse. She has promised to provide you with a home, and clothing, and tosend you to school for two years, till you are about twelve, for wethink you must be about ten years old now; and after that you shall havesettled wages."

  Tony listened with a quick throbbing of his heart and a contraction inhis throat, which hindered him from speaking all at once when Mr. Rosshad finished. What a grand thing it would be for himself! But then therewere old Oliver and Dolly to be remembered.

  "It 'ud do first-rate for me," he said at last, "and I'd try my best tohelp in the garden; but I couldn't never leave Mr. Oliver and the littlegirl. She'd fret ever so; and he's gone so forgetful he'd lose his ownhead, if he could anyhow. Why! of a morning they sell him any papers asthey've too many of. Sometimes it's all the 'Star,' and sometimes it'sall the 'Standard;' and them as buys one won't have the other. I don'tknow why, I'm sure. But you see when I go for 'em I say twenty-five this,and thirteen that, and I count 'em over pretty sharp, I can tell you;though I couldn't read at all afore I came here, but I could tell whichwas which easy enough. Then he'd never think to open his shop somemornings; and other mornings he'd open at four or five o'clock, just whenhe woke of hisself. No. I must stay and take care of 'em a bit; but thankyou, sir, all the same."

  He had spoken so gravely and thoughtfully that his reasons went directlyto the heart of Mr. Ross; but he asked him one more question, before hecould let his good plan for the boy drop.

  "What has he done for you, Antony? Is he any relation of yours?"

  "No, no!" cried Tony, his eyes growing bright, "I haven't got anyrelation in all the world; but he took me in out of love, and let mesleep comfortable under the counter, instead of in the streets. I lovehim, and Dolly, I do. I'll stay by 'em as long as ever I live, if I haveto sweep a crossing till I'm an old man like him. Besides, I hear himspeak a good word for me often and often to his Master; and I s'posenobody else 'ud do that."

  "What master?" inquired Mr. Ross.

  "Him," answered Tony, pointing to a picture of the Saviour blessing youngchildren, "he's always talking to him as if he could see him, and hetells him everythink. No, it 'ud be better for me to stay with him andDolly, and keep hard by my crossing, than go away from 'em, and haveclothes, and lodging, and schooling for nothink."

  "I think it would," said Mr. Ross, "so you must go on as you are, Antony,till I can find you something better than a crossing. You are lookingvery well, my boy; that's a nice, warm suit of clothes you have on,better than the rags you came in by a long way."

  It was a sailor's suit, sent to the hospital by some mother, whose boyhad perhaps outgrown it; or, it may be, whose boy had been taken awayfrom all her tender care for him. It was of good, rough, thick bluecloth, and fitted Tony well. He had grown a good deal during hisillness, and his face had become whiter and more refined; his hair, too,was cut to a proper length, and parted down the side, no longer lyingabout his head in a tangled mass. He coloured up with pleasure as Mr.Ross looked approvingly at him.

  "They've lent it me till I go out," he said, with a tone slightlyregretful in his voice, "I only wish Dolly could have seen me in it, andher aunt Charlotte. My own things were too ragged for me to wear 'em in aplace like this."

  "They've given it to you, Antony," replied Mr. Ross, "those are theclothes you will go home in to-morrow."

  It seemed too much for Tony to believe, though a nurse who was sitting byand sewing away busily, told him it was quite true. He was intenselyhappy all the rest of the day, often standing up, and almost straininghis neck to get a satisfactory view of his own back, and stroking the napof his blue trousers with a fondling touch. They would all see him in it;old Oliver, Dolly, and aunt Charlotte. There would be no question now asto his fitness for taking Dolly out for a walk; he would be dressed wellenough to attend upon a princess. This made famous amends for the pairof old boots he had lost the night he broke his leg; a loss he had oftensilently lamented over in his own mind. The nurse told him she waspatching up his old clothes, and making him a cap, to wear when he was atwork on his crossing, for the new ones were much too good for that; andTony felt as rich as if a large fortune had been left to him.

  It was a very joyful thing to go home again. Dolly was a little shy atfirst of this new Tony, so different from the poor, ragged, wild-lookingold Tony; but a very short time was enough to make her familiar with hisnice blue suit, and the anchor-buttons upon it. He found his place underthe counter all nicely papered to keep the draughts out; and a littlechaff mattress, made by aunt Charlotte, laid down instead of the shavingsupon the floor. It was even pleasanter to be here than in the hospital.

  But Tony found it hard work to go back to his crossing in the morning;and he could not make out what was the matter with himself, he felt socross and idle. His old clothes seemed really such horrid rags that hecould scarcely bear to feel them about him; and if any passer-by lookedclosely at him, he went red and hot all over. He was not so successfulas he thought he had been before his accident, or as he thought he oughtto be; for the roads were getting cleaner with the drier weather, and fewpersons considered it necessary to give him a copper for his almostneedless labour. Worst of all,--Clever Dog Tom found him out, and wouldcome often to see him; sometimes jeering him for his poor spirit in beingcontent with such low work, and sometimes boasting of the fine things hecould do, and displaying the fine clothes he could wear. It was trulyvery hard work for Tony, after his long holiday at the hospital, where hehad had as much luxury and attention as a rich man's son.

  But at home in the evening Tony felt all right again. Old Oliver set himto learn to read and write, and he was making rapid progress, more rapidthan Dolly, who began at the same time, but who was apt to look upon itall as only another kind of game, of which she grew more quickly tiredthan of hide-and-seek. There was no one to check her, or to make herunderstand it was real, serious work: neither old Oliver nor Tony couldfind any fault with their darling. Now and then there came letters fromher mother, full of anxious questions about her, and loving messages toher, telling her to be a good girl till she came back, but never sayinga word as to when there was any chance of her returning to England. Inone of these letters she sent word that a little sister was come for herout in India, who was just like what Dolly herself had been when she wasa baby; but neither Oliver nor Tony could quite believe that. There neverhad been such a child as Dolly; there never would be again.