It now remained for Kit to find a new situation, and he roamed the city in search of one daily.  He was quite tired out with pacing the streets, to say nothing of repeated disappointments, and was sitting down upon a step to rest, one day, when there approached towards him a little clattering, jingling, four-wheeled chaise, drawn by a little obstinate-looking, rough-coated pony, and driven by a little placid-faced old gentleman.  Beside the little old gentleman sat a little old lady, plump and placid like himself.  As they passed where he sat, Kit looked so wistfully at the little turnout, that the old gentleman looked at him.  Kit rising and putting his hand to his hat, the old gentleman intimated to the pony that he wished to stop, to which proposal the pony graciously acceded.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Kit.  “I’m sorry you stopped, sir, I only meant, did you want your horse minded.”

“I’m going to get down in the next street,” returned the old gentleman.  “If you like to come on after us, you may have the job.”

Kit thanked him, and joyfully obeyed, and held the refractory little beast until the little old lady and little old gentleman came out, and the old gentleman, taking his seat and the reins again, put his hand in his pocket to find a sixpence for Kit.  Not a sixpence could he find, and he thought a shilling too much, but there was no shop in the street to get change at, so he gave it to the boy.

“There,” he said jokingly, “I’m coming here again next Monday at the same time, and mind you’re here, my lad, to work it out!”

“Thank you, sir,” said Kit.  “I’ll be sure to be here.”

He was quite serious, but they laughed heartily at his saying so, and then the pony started off on a brisk trot, and Kit was left alone.  Having expended his treasure in such purchases as he knew would be most acceptable at home, not forgetting some seed for the bird, he hastened back as fast as he could.

Day after day, as he bent his steps homeward, returning from some new effort to procure employment, Kit raised his eyes to the window of the little room he had so much commended to the child Nell, and hoped to see some indication of her presence.

“I think they must certainly come to-morrow, eh, mother?” said Kit, laying aside his hat with a weary air, and sighing as he spoke.  “They have been gone a week.  They surely couldn’t stop away more than a week, could they now?”

The mother shook her head, and reminded him how often he had been disappointed already, and Kit, looking very mournful, clambered up to the nail, took down the cage, and set himself to clean it, and to feed the bird.  His thoughts reverting from this occupation to the little old gentleman who had given him the shilling, he suddenly recollected that that was the very day—­nay, nearly the very hour—­at which the old gentleman had said he should be at the Notary’s office again.  He no sooner remembered