tightly-closed hand.

"Don't you go to take it of her," cried Tony. "Bless you! I'll get
another some way. I never thought that were the way he'd give me a broom
and a crossing. I thought it 'ud be sure to come direct."

"Well," said Oliver, after a little pause, "I'll save the fourpence for
you. It'll only be going without my pipe for a few nights, that's all.
That's nothing, Tony."

It did not seem much to Tony, who had no idea as yet of the pleasures of
smoking; yet he roused up just before falling into his deep sleep at
night to step softly to the door, and look in upon Oliver. He was sitting
in his arm-chair, with his pipe between his lips, but there was no
tobacco in it; and he was holding more eager converse than ever with his
unseen companion.

"Dear Lord!" he said, "I'd do ten times more than this for thee. Thou
hast said, 'Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these, ye did it
unto me.' Tony's one of thy little ones. Dear Lord, do thee give him a
crossing, if it be thy blessed will. Do thee now, Lord."

Tony could hear no more, and he stole back to bed, his mind full of new
and vague hopes. He dreamed of the fourpenny piece, and the gentleman who
had given it, and of Dolly, who bought a wondrous broom with it, in his
dream, which swept a beautiful crossing of itself. But old Oliver sat
still a long time, talking half aloud; for his usual drowsiness did not
come to him. It was nearly five months now since Dolly was left to him,
and he felt his deafness and blindness growing upon him slowly. His
infirmities were not yet so burdensome as to make him dependent upon