gone out to India with her husband, and left the little love to live
alone with me."

"But whatever'll the Master say to that?" inquired Tony.

"What master?" asked old Oliver.

"Him--Lord Jesus Christ. What'll he say to her leaving you and the
little 'un again?" said Tony, with an eager face.

"Oh! he says a woman ought to leave her father, and keep to her husband,"
he answered, somewhat sadly. "It's all right, that is."

"I s'pose he'll help you to take care of the little girl," said Tony.

"Ay will he; him and me," replied old Oliver; "there's no fear of that.
You never read the Testament, of course, my boy?"

"Can't read, I told you," he answered. "But what's that?"

"A book all about him, the Lord Jesus," said Oliver, "what he's done, and
what he's willing to do for people. If you'll come of an evening, I'll
read it aloud to you and my little love. She'll listen as quiet and good
as any angel."

"I'll come to-morrow," answered Tony, readily; and he lingered about the
doorway until he heard the old man inside fasten the bolts and locks, and
saw the light go out in the pane of glass over the door. Then he
scampered noiselessly with his naked feet along the alley in the
direction of Covent Garden, where he purposed to spend the night, if left
undisturbed.

Old Oliver went back into his room, where the tea-table was still set
out for his Susan's welcome; but he had no heart to clear the things
away. A chill came over his spirit as his eye fell upon the preparations
he had made to give her such a cordial greeting, that she would know at
once he had forgiven her fully. He lit his pipe, and sat pondering
sorrowfully over all the changes that had happened to him since those
old, far-away days when he was a boy, in the pleasant, fresh, healthy
homestead at the foot of the Wrekin. He felt all of a sudden how very old
he was; a poor, infirm, hoary old man. His sight was growing dim even,
and his hearing duller every day; he was sure of it. His limbs ached
oftener, and he was earlier wearied in the evening; yet he could not
sleep soundly at nights, as he had been used to do. But, worst of all,
his memory was not half as good as it had been. Sometimes, of late, he
had caught himself reading a newspaper quite a fortnight old, and he had
not found it out till he happened to see the date at the top. He could
not recollect the names of people as he did once; for many of his
customers to whom he supplied the monthly maga