Jasper's old shed, and how the light shone in

Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
CHAPTER
JONAS JASPER, general and marine store-dealer. Best prices given, no reasonable offer refused. N.B.—Families waited upon. Such was the sign-board that for more than forty years had swung over the entry to that old shed in Preece's Place where Jonas Jasper carried on his business. Everybody knew him, and his shop too; for he was by far the oldest inhabitant, not only of the street, but of the neighbourhood, which comprised all the poorest and lowest part of the town of Helmstone, a well-known and much-frequented watering-place on the south coast.
N.B.—nota bene
It required some little courage to penetrate into the dismal and dirty shed afore-mentioned; but Jasper was generally to be found somewhere near the entry, behind one of those three old barrels that had stood there ever since he began business. It was an understood fact now that the barrels were not for sale.
Why, I should be quite lost without 'em, he used to say; they be very handy for my old back to lean against, and when I'm tired of sitting by one, why, I've got two more to choose from. And so, while the sundry heaps of rags and bones, rusty iron and empty bottles and waste paper, etc., were constantly changing owners, the barrels remained in their original position, looking almost like sentries of the establishment.
There was a small room at one end of the shed, reached by a ladder, and this served as a sleeping-place for the old man. And here, amid these surroundings, had he lived for forty years, managing somehow or other to make a living in a generally honest way.
It was a fresh, bright morning in October, and, for a wonder, a ray of sunshine had found its way into the dismal shed, where Jasper, seated against his foremost barrel, was reading a newspaper, when a child's voice aroused him.
Please, Mr. Jasper, I've come for our goods.
The tone was familiar, and with a look of genuine pleasure Jonas turned to see little Rob Mellor standing at his side. A strange, old-fashioned child he was, though barely eight years old; but, in spite of the ragged clothes and neglected appearance, there was a wonderful attraction about the little fellow, that even Jonas had been unable to resist, ever since he first knew him, some two years before.