"Washed myself early in the morning, afore the bobbies were much about,"
remarked Tony, "in the fountains at Charing Cross; but I hadn't time to
get my rags done, so I did 'em down under the bridge, when the tide were
going down; but I could only give 'em a bit of a swill and a ring out.
Anyhow, I'm a bit cleaner this morning than last night, master."

"To be sure, to be sure," answered Oliver. "Come in, my boy, and I'll
give you a bit of breakfast with her and me."

"You haven't got sich a thing as a daily paper, have you?" asked Tony, in
a patronizing tone.

"Not to-day's paper, I'm afraid," he said.

"I'm afraid not," continued Tony; "overslept yourself, eh? Not as I can
read myself; but there are folks going by as can, and might p'raps buy
one here as well as anywhere else. Shall I run and get 'em for you, now
I'm on my legs?"

Oliver looked questioningly at the boy, who returned a frank, honest
gaze, and said, "Honour bright!" as he held out his hand for the money.
There was some doubt in the old man's mind after Tony had disappeared as
to whether he had not done a very foolish thing; but he soon forgot it
when he returned to the breakfast-table; and long before he himself could
have reached the place and returned, Tony was back again with his right
number of papers.

Before many minutes Tony was sitting upon an old box at a little distance
from the table, where Oliver sat with his grandchild. A basin of coffee
and a large hunch of bread rested upon his knees, and Beppo was sniffing