that this master and friend of old Oliver's was a being very different
from an ordinary man, however great and rich he might be. He had grown to
love the thought of him, and to listen attentively to the book which told
the manner of life he led; but it was a chill to find out that he could
not look into his face, and hear his voice, as he could Oliver's. His
heart was heavy, and very sad.

"I s'pose I can't see him, then," he murmured to himself, at last.

"Not exactly like other folks," said Oliver. "I think sometimes that
perhaps there's a little darkness of the grave where he was buried about
him still. But he sees us, and hears us. He himself says, 'Behold, I am
with you always.' I don't know whatever I should do, even with my little
love here, if I wasn't sure Jesus was with me as well."

"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Tony, after another pause. "I'm going
to ask him to give me somethink, and then if he does, I shall know he
hears me--I should very much like to have a broom and a crossing, and get
my living a bit more easy, if you please."

He had turned his face away from Oliver, and looked across into the
darkest corner of the room, where he could see nothing but shadow. The
old man felt puzzled, and somewhat troubled, but he only sighed softly to
himself; and opening the Testament, he read aloud in it till he was
calmed again, and Tony was listening in rapt attention.

"My boy," he said, as the hour came for Tony to go, "where are you
sleeping now?"

"Anywhere as I can get out o' the wind," he answered. "It's cold now,