ablish the good, and evil shrinks away, weak and
abashed."

CHAPTER XX.

_SO_ the morning found them fast asleep. The man awoke first and felt
the child against his bosom, soft and warm. It was some moments ere he
understood what it meant. It seemed as if the wretched life he had been
leading was all a horrible dream out of which he had awakened, and that
the child sleeping in his bosom was his own tenderly-loved baby. But
the sweet illusions faded away, and the hard, sorrowful truth stood out
sternly before him.

Then Andy's eyes opened and looked into his face. There was nothing
scared in the look-hardly an expression of surprise. But the man saw a
mute appeal and a tender confidence that made his heart swell and yearn
toward the homeless little one.

"Had a nice sleep?" he asked, in a tone of friendly encouragement.

Andy nodded his head, and then gazed curiously about the room.

"Want some breakfast?"

The hungry face lit up with a flash of pleasure.

"Of course you do, little one."

The man was on his feet by this time, with his hand in his pocket,
from which he drew a number of pennies. These he counted over carefully
twice. The number was just ten. If there had been only himself to
provide for, it would not have taken long to settle the question of
expenditure. Five cents at an eating-shop where the caterer supplied
himself from the hodge-podge of beggars' baskets would have given him
a breakfast fit for a dog or pig, while the remaining five cents would
have gone for fiery liquor to quench a burning thirst.

But another mouth had too be fed. All at once this poor degraded man
had risen to a sense of responsibility, and was practicing the virtue of
self-denial. A little child was leading him.

He had no toilette to make, no ablutions to practice. There was neither
pail nor wash-basin in his miserable kennel. So, without any delay of
preparation, he caught up the broken mug and went out, as forlorn a
looking wretch as was to be seen in all that region. Almost every house
that he passed was a grog-shop, and his nerves were all unstrung and his
mouth and throat dry from a night's abstinence. But he was able to go
by without a pause. In a few minutes he returned with a loaf of bread, a
pint of milk and a single dried sausage.

What a good breakfast the two made. Not for a long time had the man so
enjoyed a meal. The sight of little Andy, as he ate with the fine relish
of a hungry child, made