Alone in London Part 5

He knew Susan's letters off by heart, and did not need his spectacles, nor a good light to read them by. Charlotte listened with emphatic nods, and many exclamations of astonishment.

"That's very pretty of Susan," she remarked, "saying as Aunt Charlotte'll do her sewing, and see to her manners. Ay, that I will! for who should know manners better than me, who used to work for the Staniers, and dine at the housekeeper's table, with the butler and all the head servants? to be sure I'll take care that she does not grow up ungenteel. Where is the dear child, brother James?"

"She's gone out for a walk this fine morning," he answered.

"Not alone?" cried Charlotte. "Who's gone out with her? A child under five years old could never go out all alone in London: at least I should think not. She might get run over and killed a score of times."

"Oh! there's a person with her I've every confidence in," replied Oliver.

"What sort of person; man or woman; male or female?" inquired Charlotte.

"A boy," he answered, in some confusion.

"A boy!" repeated his sister, as if he had said a monster. "What boy?"

"His name's Tony," he replied.

"But where does he come from? Is he respectable?" she pursued, fixing him with her glittering eyes in a manner which did not tend to restore his composure.

"I don't know, sister," he said in a feeble tone.

"Don't know, brother James!" she exclaimed. "Don't you know where he lives?"

"He lives here," stammered old Oliver; "at least he sleeps here under the counter; but he finds his own food about the streets."

Charlotte's consternation was past all powers of speech. Here was her brother, a respectable man, who had seen better days, and whose sister had been a dressmaker in good families, harbouring in his own house a common boy off the streets, who, no doubt, was a thief and pickpocket, with all sorts of low ways and bad language. At the same time there was poor Susan's little girl dwelling under the same roof; the child whose pretty manners she was to attend to, living in constant companionship with a vulgar and vicious boy! What she might have said upon recovering her speech, neither she nor Oliver ever knew; for at this crisis Tony himself appeared, carrying Dolly and his new broom in his arms, and looking very haggard and tattered himself, his bare feet black with mud, and his bare head in a hopeless condition of confusion, and tangle.

"We've bought a geat big boom, gan-pa," shouted Dolly, as she came through the shop, and before she perceived the presence of a stranger; "and Tony and Dolly made a great big crossing, and dot ever so much money--"

She was suddenly silent as soon as her eye fell upon the stranger; but Aunt Charlotte had heard enough. She rose with great dignity from her chair, and was about to address herself vehemently to Tony, when old Oliver interrupted her.

"Charlotte," he said, "the boy's a good boy, and he's a help to me. I couldn't send him away. He's one of the Lord's poor little ones as are scattered up and down in this great city, without father or mother, and I must do all I can for him. It isn't much; it's only a bed under the counter, and a crust now and then, and he more than pays for it. You musn't come betwixt me and Tony."

Old Oliver spoke so emphatically, that his sister was impressed and silenced for a minute. She took the little girl away from Tony, and glared at him with a sternness which made him feel very uncomfortable; but her eye softened a little, and her face grew less harsh.

"You can't read or write?" she said, in a sharp voice.

"No," he answered.

"And you've not got any manners, or boots, or a cap on your head. You are ragged and ignorant, and not fit to live with this little girl," she continued, with energy. "If this little girl's mother saw her going about with a boy in bare feet and a bare head, it 'ud break her heart I know.

So if you wish to stay here with my brother, Mr. Oliver, and this little girl, Miss Dorothy Raleigh, as I suppose her name is, you must get all these things. You must begin to learn to read and write, and talk properly. I shall come here again in a month's time--I shall come every month now--and if you haven't got some shoes for your feet, and a cap for your head, before I see you again, I shall just take the little girl away down into the country, where I live, and you'll never see her again. Do you understand?"

"Yes," answered Tony, nodding his head.

"Then you may take yourself away now," said the sharp old woman, "I don't want to be too hard upon you; but I've got this little girl to look after for her mother, and you must do as I say, or I shall carry her right off to be out of your way. Take your broom and go; and never you think of such a thing as taking this little girl to sweep a crossing again. I never heard of such a thing. There, go!"

Tony slunk away sadly, with a sudden down-heartedness. He returned so joyous and triumphant, in spite of his weariness, that this unexpected and unpleasant greeting had been a very severe shock to him. With his broom over his shoulder, and with his listless, slouching steps, he sauntered slowly back to his crossing; but he had no heart for it now.

CHAPTER XI.

AMONG THIEVES.

The night fell early, for a thick fog came on in the afternoon. Tony cowered down upon his broom under the wall where Dolly had sat in the sunshine all the morning to watch him sweep his crossing. It was all over now. She was lost to him; for he should never dare to go back to old Oliver's house, and face that terrible old woman again. There was nothing for him but to return to his old life and his old haunts; and a chill ran through him, body and spirit, as he thought of it. His heap of paper shavings under the counter, where the biting winds could not reach him, came to his mind, and the tears rushed to his eyes. But to-night, at least, there would be no need to sleep out of doors, for he had some money in the safest corner of his ragged pocket, tied up in it securely with a bit of string. He could afford to pay for a night's lodging, and he knew very well where he could get one.

About nine o'clock Tony turned his weary feet towards a slum he knew of in Westminster, where there was a cellar open to everybody who could pay two-pence for a night's shelter. His heart was very full and heavy with resentment against his enemy, and a great longing to see Dolly. He loitered about the door of the cellar, reluctant and almost afraid to venture in; for it was so long since he had been driven to any of these places that he felt nearly like a stranger among them. Besides, in former times he had been kicked, and beaten, and driven from the fire, and fought with by the bigger boys; and he had become unaccustomed to such treatment of late. How different this lodging-house was to the quiet peaceful home where Dolly knelt down every evening at her grandfather's knee, and prayed for him; for now she always put Tony's name into her childish prayers! He should never, never hear her again, nor see old Oliver seated in his arm-chair, smoking his long pipe, while he talked with that strange friend and master of his. Ah! he would never hear or know any more of that unseen Christ, who was so willing to be his master and friend, for the Lord Jesus Christ could never come into such a wicked place as this, which was the only home he had. He had given him the crossing and the broom, and that was the end of it. He must take care of himself now, and keep out of gaol if he could, and if not, why then he had better make a business of thieving, and become as good a pickpocket as "Clever Dog Tom," who had once stolen a watch from a policeman himself.

Clever Dog Tom was the first to greet Tony when he slipped in at last, and he seemed inclined to make much of him; but Tony was too troubled for receiving any consolation from Tom's friendly advances. He crept away into the darkest corner, and stretched himself on the thin straw which covered the damp and dirty floor, but he could not fall asleep.

There was a good deal of quarreling among the boys, and the men who wished to sleep swore long and loudly at them. Then there followed a fight, which grew so exciting at last that every person in the place, except Tony, gathered about the boys in a ring, encouraging and cheering them. It was long after midnight before silence and rest came, and then he fell into a broken slumber, dreaming of Dolly and old Oliver, until he awoke and found his face wet with tears. He got up before any of his bed-fellows were aroused, and made his way out into the fresh keen air of a December morning.

Day after day went by, and night after night Tony was growing more indifferent again to the swearing and fighting of his old comrades. He began to listen with delight to the tales of Clever Dog Tom, who told him that hands like his would work well in his line, and his innocent-looking face would go a long way towards softening any judge and jury, or would bring him favour with the chaplain, and easy times in gaol. He kept his crossing still, and did tolerably well, earning enough to keep himself in food, and to pay for his night's shelter; but he was beginning to hanker after something more. If he could not be good, and be on the same side as old Oliver and Dolly, he thought it would be better to be altogether on the other side, like Tom, who dressed well, and lived well, and was looked up to by other boys. It was a week after he had left old Oliver's house, and he was about to leave his crossing for the night, when a gentleman stopped him suddenly, and looked keenly into his face.

"Hollo, my lad!" he said, "you're the boy I gave fourpence to a week ago for holding my horse. I told you to lay it out well. What did you do with it?"

"Me and Dolly bought this broom," he answered, "and I've kept this crossing ever since."

"Well done!" said the gentleman. "And who is Dolly?"

"It's a little girl as I was very fond of," replied Tony, with a deep sigh. It seemed so long ago that he spoke of his love for her as if it was a thing altogether pa.s.sed away and dead, yet his heart still ached at the memory of it.

"Well, here's another fourpenny-bit for you," said his friend, "quite a new one. See how bright it is; no one has ever bought anything with it yet. Dolly will like to see it."

Tony held it in the palm of his hand long after the gentleman was out of sight, gazing at it in the lamplight. It was very beautiful and shining; and oh! how Dolly's eyes would shine and sparkle if she could only see it! And she ought to see it. By right it belonged to her; for had he not given her his first fourpenny-piece freely, and had twenty kisses for it, and then had she not given it him back to buy a broom with? she had never had a single farthing of all his earnings. How he would like to show her this beautiful piece of silver, and feel her soft little arms round his neck, when he said it was to be her very own! He felt that he dare not pa.s.s the night in the cellar with such a treasure about him, for Tom, who was so clever, would be sure to find out that his pocket was worth the picking, and Tony had not found that there was much honour among thieves.

What was he to do? Where was he to go?

CHAPTER XII.

TONY'S WELCOME.

Almost without knowing where his feet were carrying him, Tony sauntered through the streets until he found himself at the turn into the alley within a few yards of Oliver's home, and his beloved Dolly. At any rate he could pa.s.s down it, and, if the shop-door was not shut, he would wrap his beautiful silver coin in a rag, and throw it into the inside; they would be sure to guess who had done it, and what it was for. It was dark down the alley, only one lamp and the greengrocer's gas lighting it up, and Tony stole along quietly in the shadow. It was nearly time for Dolly to be going to bed, he thought, and old Oliver was sure to be with her in the inner room; but just as he came into the revealing glare of the greengrocer's stall, his ears rang and his heart throbbed violently at the sound of a shrill little scream of gladness, and the next moment he felt himself caught by Dolly's arms, and dragged into the house by them.

"Tony's come home, Tony's come home, gan-pa!" she shouted with all her might. "Dolly's found Tony at last!"

Dolly's voice quivered, and broke down into quick, childish sobs, while she held Tony very fast, lest he should escape from her once again; and old Oliver came quickly from the room beyond, and laid his hand fondly upon the boy's shoulder.

"Why have you kept away from us so long, Tony?" he asked.

"Oh, master!" he cried, "I've been a wicked boy, and a miserable boy. Do forgive me, and I'll never do so no more. I s'pose you'll never let me sleep under the counter again?"

"Come in, come in!" answered Oliver, pushing him gently before him into the house. "We've been waiting and watching for you every night, me and my little love. You ought not to have served us so, my lad; but we're too glad to be angry with you. Charlotte's sharp, and she's very much afraid of low ways and manners; but she isn't a hard woman, and she didn't know anything about you. When I told her as you'd been left no bigger than my little love here to take care of yourself, alone, in London,--mother dead, and no father,--she shed tears about you, she did. And she left you the biggest of her eggs to be kept for your supper, with her kind love; and we've put it by for you. You shall have it this very night. Dolly, my love, bring me the little saucepan."

"I'm not so clean as I could wish," said Tony, mournfully; for he had neglected himself during the last week, and looked very much like what he had done when he had first seen old Oliver and his little grand-daughter.