han he had known for a long time.

"Is it good?" asked the man.

"I bet you!" was the cheery answer.

"Well, you're a little brick," laughed the man as he stroked Andy's
head. "And you don't live anywhere?"

"No."

"Is your mother dead?"

"Yes."

"And your father?"

"Hain't got no father."

"Would you like to live here?"

Andy looked toward the empty bowl from which he had made such a
satisfying meal, and said,

"Yes."

"It will hold us both. You're not very big;" and as he said this the man
drew his arm about the boy in a fond sort of way.

"I guess you're tired," he added, for Andy, now that an arm was drawn
around him, leaned against it heavily.

"Yes, I'm tired," said the child.

"And sleepy too, poor little fellow! It isn't much of a bed I can give
you, but it's better than a door-step or a rubbish corner."

Then he doubled the only blanket he had, and made as soft a bed as
possible. On this he laid Andy, who was fast asleep almost as soon as
down.

"Poor little chap!" said the man, in a tender, half-broken voice, as he
stood over the sleeping child, candle in hand. "Poor little chap!"

The sight troubled him. He turned with a quick, disturbed movement and
put the candle down. The light streaming upward into his face showed
the countenance of a man so degraded by intemperance that everything
attractive had died out of it. His clothes were scanty, worn almost
to tatters, and soiled with the slime and dirt of many an ash-heap or
gutter where he had slept off his almost daily fits of drunkenness.
There was an air of irresolution about him, and a strong play of feeling
in his marred, repulsive face, as he stood by the table on which he
had set the candle. One hand was in his pocket, fumbling over the few
pennies yet remaining there.

As if drawn by an attraction he could not resist, his eyes kept turning
to the spot where Andy lay sleeping. Once, as they came back, they
rested on the mug from which the child had taken his supper of bread and
milk.

"Poor little fellow!" came from his lips, in a tone of pity.

Then he sat down by the table and leaned his head on his hand. His face
was toward the corner of the room where the child lay. He still fumbled
the small coins in his pocket, but after a while his fingers ceased to
play with them, then his hand was slowly withdrawn from the pocket, a
deep sigh accompanying the act.

After the lapse of several minutes he took up the candle, and going