eir
morning's walk; and Dolly was enjoying herself very much in the sunshine,
receiving all the attention which he could spare from his crossing.
However a beginning was made. The broom and the crossing were his
property; and Tony's heart, beat fast with pride and gladness as he
carried the weary little Dolly all the way home again. He resolved to put
by half of his morning's earnings towards replacing the fourpenny-piece
she had given back to him; or perhaps he would buy her a beautiful doll,
dressed like a real lady.

CHAPTER X.

HIGHLY RESPECTABLE.

As old Oliver was stooping over his desk on the counter, and bringing his
dim eyes as close as he could to the letter he was writing, his shop-door
was darkened by the unexpected entrance of his sister Charlotte herself.
She was dressed with her usual extreme neatness, bordering upon
gentility, and she carried upon her arm a small fancy reticule, which
contained some fresh eggs, and a few russet apples, brought up expressly
from the country. Oliver welcomed her with more than ordinary pleasure,
and led her at once into his room behind. Charlotte's quick eyes detected
in an instant the traces of a child's dwelling there; and before Oliver
could utter a word, she picked up a little frock, and was holding it out
at arm's length, with an air of utter surprise and misgiving.

"Brother James!" she exclaimed, and her questioning voice, with its tone
of amazement, rang very clearly into his ears.

"It's my little Dolly's," he answered, in haste; "poor Susan's little
girl, who's gone out with her husband, young Raleigh, to India, because
he's 'listed, and left her little girl with me, her grandfather. She came
on the very last day you were here."

"Well, to be sure!" cried his sister, sinking down on a chair, but still
keeping the torn little frock in her hand.

"I've had two letters from poor Susan," he continued, in a tremulous
voice, "and I'll read them to you. The child's such a precious treasure
to me, Charlotte--such a little love, a hundred times better than any
gold; and now you're come to mend up her clothes a bit, and see what she
wants for me, there's nothing else that I desire. I was writing about her
to you when you came in."

"I thought you'd gone and picked up a lost child out of the streets,"
said Charlotte, with a sigh of relief.

"No, no; she's my own," he answered. "You hearken while I read poor
Susan's letters, and then you'll understand all