"Thy kingdom come."
THE next day was Saturday, on the evening of which Viner, as usual, cast up his accounts, and reckoned his gains during the week. It was the amusement of Nelly, seated upon his knee, to arrange pence and half pence into little shilling heaps, and separate the sum always laid aside for the rent, and that required to purchase the next week's stock. The little child felt herself useful in doing this, and aspired to the time when she could manage the big book, and sum up all the figures like father. But this evening there was a cloud over her sunny face, and she looked sadly at the small amount of money that remained, when she had put aside what was wanted for rent and stock.
"We used once to have roast beef for Sunday dinner," she said, with a sigh, "and lately we have always had bacon and beans, but to-morrow we shall have nothing but porridge and potatoes."
"And eat them with thankfulness, I trust, my darling. There are many who have worse fare than that."
Walter was pained to the heart, although he said nothing; he felt himself a burden on one already poor, the little help that he could give was scarcely needed in the shop, food and lodging seemed to him not earned but received from charity.
Viner observed the gloomy expression on the face of his adopted son; and though his own heart was struggling beneath a weight of care, as he put by his insufficient gains, and thought of the approaching winter, when those gains might be expected to be less, he endeavoured to cheer his young companions by diverting their minds from the subject.
"Walter," said he, "I have observed your eye often rest on that curious little book which is kept on our mantelpiece."
"Yes; it looks so strange and ancient, in its old-fashioned covering, of what was once, I suppose, gold and blue; it is not like the small books we see now."
"Has Nelly yet told you the story of that book?"
In a moment the face of the little girl had all its sunniness again. "Oh no!" she exclaimed, "I left that for you—the story of my dear good grandfather! That is my favourite story about the illumination and the barefooted little boy. O father! So tell it to us now! This is just the time, when the shop is shut, and our work is over, and it is getting dark; we shall save a candle, you know, for we don't need light to listen!"