Another inward debate took place; then drawing out his beloved Pilgrim’s Progress, he put the two books together, and said,—
“Suppose they’d give us one for them two?”
“Don’t let’s part with them if we can help,” said Reginald. “Suppose we try to earn something?”
The boy said nothing, but trudged on beside his protector till they emerged from Shy Street and stood in one of the broad empty main streets of the city.
Here Reginald, worn out with hunger and fatigue, and borne up no longer by the energy of desperation, sank half fainting into a doorstep.
“I’m—so tired,” he said; “let’s rest a bit. I’ll be all right—in a minute.”
Love looked at him anxiously for a moment, and then saying, “Stay you there, gov’nor, till I come back,” started off to run.
How long Reginald remained half-unconscious where the boy left him he could not exactly tell; but when he came to himself an early streak of dawn was lighting the sky, and Love was kneeling beside him.
“It’s all right, gov’nor,” said he, holding up a can of hot coffee and a slice of bread in his hands. “Chuck these here inside yer; do you ’ear?”
Reginald put his lips eagerly to the can. It was nearly sixteen hours since he had touched food. He drained it half empty; then stopping suddenly, he said,—