Things were growing desperate with Gus. Sally was pressing the glass to his lips; he clenched his teeth, but the man, half-strangling him, forced his mouth open. Gus saved himself; however. With a sudden, tremendous effort, he struck out with his chin so forcibly that he sent the glass flying from Sally's hand to the floor, where it lay shivered.
"Well, of all ungrateful young varmints!" cried Sally, in her indignation. "After all we've done for you, buryin' your father like a gentleman, when, but for us, he must've had the parish hearse. One of my new glasses, I declare! Get along with you, do, if you can't behave better than that!"
Gus needed no second bidding to be off. He left the company lamenting the waste of good spirit, and rushed into the dismal back room which had been his home. It looked to his eyes more dismal than ever, now that the table and trunk which had supported the coffin stood bare. With a cry, he threw himself on his knees beside the bed, and hid his face in the tumbled bed-clothes.
"Oh, father!" he cried. "Father, father! What can I do without you?"
As the evening wore on, the sounds of mirth in the adjoining room grew louder and wilder. No one gave a thought to the fatherless boy. He crouched there alone and comfortless, till he forgot his sorrow in sleep.
[CHAPTER VI.]
GUS WINS A NAME.
AFTER that night, Gus could no longer call the back room home. Sally Dent performed the task she described as "turning it out" on the following day, and by night it was not only ready for another lodger, but another lodger had possession of it. In the "turning-out" process, Sally came upon the Bible, which she had already observed with much interest. She was struck anew with the beauty of the embossed cover and the watered silk lining.
"Here, Gus," she called to the boy, "you'd better let me keep this; it's too good for you to 'ave knocking about. It'll be some set off against all I've done and shall do for you. It isn't many folks would take a strange brat into their 'omes; but I've a feelin' 'eart."
"It was father's," said Gus, looking wistfully at the book. "Sometimes I used to read a bit of it to him."