Alone In London | Page 5

Beppo's ear.
"Let me put the shutters up, master," cried Tony, eagerly; "I won't charge you nothink, and I'll just look round in the morning to see how you're getting along. She is such a very little thing."
The shutters were put up briskly, and then Tony took a long, farewell gaze of the old man and the little child, but he could not offer to touch either of them. He glanced at his hands, and Oliver did the same; but they both shook their heads.
"I'll have a wash in the morning afore I come," he said, nodding resolutely; "good-bye, guv'ner; goodbye, little 'un."
Old Oliver went in, leaving his door ajar, and his gas lit, as he had said. He fed the hungry child with bread and butter, and used up his half-pennyworth of milk, which he bought for himself every evening. Then he lifted her on to his knee, with Beppo in her arms, and sat for a long while waiting. The little head nodded, and Dolly sat up, unsteadily striving hard to keep awake; but at last she let Beppo drop to the floor, while she herself fell upon the old man's breast, and lay there without moving. It chimed eleven o'clock at last, and Oliver knew it was of no use to watch any longer.
He managed to undress his little charge with gentle, though trembling hands, and then he laid her down on his bed, putting his only pillow against the wall to make a soft nest for the tender and sleepy child. She roused herself for a minute, and stared about her, gazing steadily, with large, tearful eyes, into his face. Then as he sat down on the bedstead beside her, to comfort her as well as he could, she lifted herself up, and knelt down, with her folded hands laid against his shoulder.
"Dolly vewy seepy," she lisped, "but must say her prayers always."
"What are your prayers, my dear?" he asked.
"On'y God bless gan-pa, and father, and mammy, and poor Beppo, and make me a good girl," murmured the drowsy voice, as Dolly closed her eyes again, and fell off into a deep sleep the next moment.
CHAPTER III.
A LITTLE PEACEMAKER.
It was a very strange event which had befallen old Oliver. He went back to his own chair, where he smoked his Broseley pipe every night, and sank down in it, rubbing his legs softly; for it was a long time since he had nursed any child, and even Dolly's small weight was a burden to him. Her tiny clothes were scattered up and down, and there was no one beside himself to gather them together, and fold them straight. In shaking out her frock a letter fell from it, and Oliver picked it up wondering whoever it could be for. It was directed to himself, "Mr. James Oliver, News-agent," and he broke the seal with eager expectation. The contents were these, written in a handwriting which he knew at first sight to be his daughter's:--
"DEAR FATHER,
"I am very very sorry I ever did anything to make you angry with me. This is your poor Susan's little girl, as is come to be a little peacemaker betwixt you and me. I'm certain sure you'll never turn her away from your door. I'm going down to Portsmouth for three days, because he listed five months ago, and his regiment's ordered out to India, and he sails on Friday. So I thought I wouldn't take my little girl to be in the way, and I said I'll leave her with father till I come back, and her pretty little ways will soften him towards me, and we'll live all together in peace and plenty till his regiment comes home again, poor fellow. For he's very good to me when he's not in liquor, which is seldom for a man. Please do forgive me for pity's sake, and for Christ's sake, if I'm worthy to use his name, and do take care of my little girl till I come home to you both on Friday, From your now dutiful daughter,
"POOR SUSAN."
The tears rolled fast down old Oliver's cheeks as he read this letter through twice, speaking the words half aloud to himself. Why! this was his own little grandchild, then--his very own! And no doubt Susan had christened her Dorothy, after her own mother, his dear wife, who had died so many years ago. Dolly was the short for Dorothy, and in early times he had often called his wife by that name. He had turned his gas off and lighted a candle, and now he took it up and went to the bedside to look at his new treasure. The tiny face lying upon his pillow was rosy with sleep, and the fair curly hair was tossed about in pretty disorder.