"And when I find little Gip, she'll be her little gel," answered Sandy, eagerly. "I don't believe as mother 'ill ever turn up again now, do you? I couldn't be the son of two mothers."
That was Sandy's secret dread, which haunted him day by day as he went to and fro about his work. He was always fearing lest his mother's hand should seize him by the collar, and hold him fast whilst she searched his pocket for halfpence; or that she would strip him of his decent working jacket, and pawn it at the nearest shop. He was sure she would dog him to his new home, and molest his friends there, till they would be compelled to give him up to her, and he would be driven back into the old wretchedness and degradation. It was a great terror, constantly besetting him; and whenever he had to pass the swinging doors of the gin-palace, which were not far between in the streets he had to walk along, he would dart by quickly, as if it were the den of some ravenous beast of prey, lying in wait to devour him.
"Lord," he said often in his prayers, "let mother be lost always, and never be found again; but please find little Gip for me soon."
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[CHAPTER XIII.]
JOHNNY'S SUNDAY SUIT.
IT was strange how the thought of little Gip took possession of John Shafto's mind. The winter days, dark and cold, had fairly set in, and he could not creep along the streets with his crutches, looking wistfully at the ragged children whom he found in numbers about them. Yet if the summer warmth had filled the air, he could no longer have gone in search of her, for the little strength remaining to him was slowly ebbing away; and he was surely going down to the grave, the dark passage through which he was to reach his Father's house beyond.
But he scarcely seemed to feel the painful steps of the journey he was making, so full was his mind of little Gip. Perhaps it was because he and Sandy talked of little else; or because there was always a faint vague hope in his heart that when Sandy came in from his work in an evening, he would bring the joyful news that Gip was found. With this hope stirring in him, he never missed watching for Sandy's return; and when the usual hour would come, he turned the gas in the shop window higher, so that Sandy might see his face looking out beside the hatchment as soon as he turned into the grave-yard.
A whistle would bring him to the door in time to open it as Sandy reached it; and he always looked to see if there were not a little tattered figure standing beside him in the darkness. But Gip was never found; and the hearts of both boys grew hopeless and very sorrowful about her.
Mrs. Shafto thought but little of Gip in comparison with her boy, who was so soon to be lost to her. She kept her kitchen cheery and cosy, and wore blue ribbons in her cap, and tried to wear a smile upon her face for Johnny's sake; but no one knew how heavy and sad her heart was at times. She must keep up, she said to herself, lest she should make her boy miserable and low-spirited on her account; but it was very hard work. Mr. Shafto could not master himself as she did, having had no long practice in self-denial; and often he would sink down in his easy-chair, hide his face in his hands, and groan aloud when he thought how soon John would be gone away, and he should never more hear the tap of his crutches about the house.