versing, the aged Jew received an angry
communication from Mr. Fledgeby, releasing Mr. Riah at once from his
service, to the great satisfaction of the old man, who then got his few
goods together in a black bag, closed the shutters, pulled down the
office blind, and issued forth upon the steps. There, while Miss Jenny
held the bag, the old man locked the house door, and handed the key over
to the messenger who had brought the note of dismissal.

"Well, godmother," said Miss Wren, "and so you're thrown upon the
world!"

"It would appear so, Jenny, and rather suddenly."

"Where are you going to seek your fortune?" asked Miss Wren. The old man
smiled, but gazed about him with a look of having lost his way in life,
which did not escape the dolls' dressmaker.

"The best thing you can do," said Jenny, "for the time being, at all
events, is to come home with me, godmother. Nobody's there but my bad
child, and Lizzie's lodging stands empty."

The old man, when satisfied that no inconvenience could be entailed on
any one by this move, readily complied, and the singularly assorted
couple once more went through the streets together.

And it was a kindly Providence which placed the child's hand in the aged
Jew's protecting one that night. Before they reached home, they met a
sad party, bearing in their arms an inanimate form, at which the dolls'
dressmaker needed but to take one look.

"Oh gentlemen, gentlemen," she cried, "He belongs to me!" "Belongs to
you!" said the head of the party, stopping;--"Oh yes, dear gentlemen,
he's my child, out without leave. My poor, bad, bad boy! And he don't
know me, he don't know me! Oh, what _shall_ I do?" cried the little
creature, wildly beating her hands together, "when my own child
don't know me!"

The head of the party looked to the old Jew for explanation. He
whispered, as the dolls' dressmaker bent over the still form, and vainly
tried to extract some sign of recognition from it; "It's her
drunken father."

Then the sad party with their lifeless burden went through the streets.
After it, went the dolls' dressmaker, hiding her face in the Jewish
skirts, and clinging to them with one hand, while with the other she
plied her stick, and at last the little home in Church Street
was reached.

Many flaunting dolls had to be gaily dressed, before the money was in
the dressmaker's pocket to get mourning for her father. As Mr. Riah sat
by, helping her in such small ways as he could, he