"No, no, Tony," said Oliver; "you're very useful, fetching my papers, and
taking my little love out a-walking when the weather's fine. I ought to
pay you something, instead of taking it of you."

"Keep it for Dolly," said Tony, bashfully, and pushing the coin into her
little hand.

"Sank 'oo," answered Dolly, accepting it promptly; "me'll give 'oo twenty
kisses for it."

It seemed ample payment to Tony, who went down on his knees to have the
kisses pressed upon his face, which had never felt a kiss since his
mother died. But Oliver was not satisfied with the bargain, though he
drew Dolly to him fondly, and left the money in her hand.

"It 'ud buy you a broom, Tony," he said.

"Oh, I've give up asking for a crossing," he answered, dejectedly; "for
he never heard, or if he heard, he never cared; so it were no use going
on teazing either him or me."

"But this money 'ud buy the broom," said Oliver; "and if you looked
about you, you'd find the crossing. You never got such a bit of money
before, did you?"

"No, never," replied Tony. "A tall, thin gentleman, with a dark face and
very sharp eyes, gave it me for holding his horse, near Temple Bar. He
says, 'Mind you spend that well, my lad.' I'd know him again anywhere."

"You ought to have bought a broom," said Oliver, looking down at Dolly's