thought, from
morning to night. His mother was often obliged to leave him alone, but
he never murmured at his long, solitary hours; indeed, had there been
any one by to listen to all the words he said to himself at these times,
they would have believed that the boy enjoyed them.

Thus three years passed away. In those three years all the beauty had
left little Giles's face; all the brightness had fled from his eyes; he
was now a confirmed invalid, white and drawn and pinched. Then his poor,
tired-out mother died. She had worked uncomplainingly, but far beyond
her strength, until suddenly she sickened and in a few days was dead.
Giles, however, while losing a mother, had gained a friend. John Atkins
read the sensitive heart of the boy like a book. He came to see him
daily, and soon completed the reading-lessons which his father had
begun. As soon as the boy could read he was no longer unhappy. His sad
and troubled mind need no longer feed on itself; he read what wise and
great men thought, for Atkins supplied him with books. Atkins's books,
it is true, were mostly of a theological nature, but once he brought him
a battered Shakespeare; and Sue also, when cash was a little flush,
found an old volume of the _Arabian Nights_ on a book-stall. These two
latter treasures gave great food to the active imagination of little
Giles.

FOOTNOTE

[1] In July 1877 arrangements were made to provide for the families of
firemen who were killed in the performance of their duty, but nothing
was done for them before that date.

CHAPTER V.

EAGER WORDS.

When John Atkins was quite young he was well-to-do. His father and
mother had kept a good shop, and not only earned money for their needs
but were able to put by sufficient for a rainy day. John was always a
small and delicate child, and as he grew older he developed disease of
the spine, which not only gave him a deformed appearance but made him
slightly lame. Nevertheless, he was an eager little scholar, and his
father was able to send him to a good school. The boy worked hard, and
eagerly read and learned all that came in his way.

Thus life was rather pleasant than otherwise with John Atkins up to his
fifteenth year, but about then there came misfortunes. The investment
into which his father had put all his hard-won earnings was worthless;
the money was lost. This was bad enough, but there was worse to follow.
Not only had the money disappeared, but the poor man