The boy devoured the bread set before him with a fierceness that looked as if he had scarcely touched food since he had gone away. He made clear decks of all Reginald had in the place; and then, slipping off the stool, curled himself up on the floor before the fire like a dog, and dropped off into a heavy sleep. Reginald took the opportunity to make a hurried excursion to the nearest provision shop to lay in what store his little means would allow. He might have spared himself the trouble of locking the door behind him, though, for on his return the boy had never stirred.
The little sleeper lay there all night, until, in fact, the coals could hold out no longer, and the fire went out. Then Reginald woke him and carried him off to his own bed, where he dropped off into another long sleep which lasted till midday. After partaking of the meal his benefactor had ready for him on waking, he seemed more like himself, and disposed to make himself useful.
“Ain’t got no envellups to lick, then?” said he, looking round the deserted room.
“No, there’s nothing to do here just now,” said Reginald.
The boy looked a little disappointed, but said, presently,—
“Want any errands fetched, gov’nor?”
“No, not now. I’ve got all I want in for the present.”
“Like yer winders cleaned?”
“Not much use with this frost on them,” said Reginald.
Thwarted thus on every hand, the boy asked no more questions, but took upon himself to go round the office and dust it as well as he could with the ragged tail of his coat. It was evidently his way of saying, “Thank you,” and he seemed more easy in his mind when it was done.