"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.