“Stay, Jo, what now?”

“It’s time for me to go to that there berrying-ground, sir,” he returned with a wild look.

“Lie down and tell me what burying-ground, Jo.”

“Where they laid him as wos wery good to me; wery good to me indeed he wos!  It’s time for me to go down to that there berrying-ground and ask to be put along with him.  I wants to go there and be berried.  He used fur to say to me, ‘I am as poor as you to-day, Jo,’ he says.  I wants to tell him that I am as poor as him now, and have come there to be laid along with him.”

“By-and-by, Jo, by-and-by.”

“Ah!  P’raps they wouldn’t do it if I wos to go myself.  But will you promise to have me took there, sir, and laid along with him?”

“I will, indeed!”

“Thank ’ee, sir.  Thank ’ee, sir.  They’ll have to get the key of the gate afore they can take me in, for it’s always locked.  And there ’s a step there as I used fur to clean with my broom.  It’s turned very dark, sir.  Is there any light a-coming?”

“It is coming fast, Jo, my poor fellow.”

“I hear you, sir, in the dark, but I’m a-gropin’—­a-gropin’—­let me catch hold of your hand!”

“Jo, can you say what I say?”

“I’ll say anythink as you say, sir, fur I knows it’s good.”

“OUR FATHER,”

“Our Father—­yes, that’s wery good, sir.”

“WHICH ART IN HEAVEN,”

“Art in Heaven—­is the light a-coming, sir?”

“It is close at hand—­HALLOWED BE THY NAME.”

“Hallowed be—­thy——­”

The light is come upon the dark benighted way.  The bewildering path is cleared of shadows at last.  Jo has moved on to a home prepared by Eternal Love for such as he.

PAUL DOMBEY

[Illustration:  PAUL DOMBEY AND HIS SISTER.]

As Mrs. Dombey died when little Paul was born, upon Mr. Dombey—­the pompous head of the great firm Dombey and Son—­fell the entire responsibility of bringing up his two children, Florence, then eight years of age, and the tiny boy, Paul.  Of Florence he took little notice; girls never seemed to him to be of any special use in the world, but Paul was the light of his eyes, his pride and joy, and in the delicate child with his refined features and dreamy eyes, Mr. Dombey saw the future representative of the firm, and his heir as well; and he could not do enough for the boy who was to perpetuate the name of Dombey after him.  It seemed to Mr. Dombey that any one so fortunate as to be born his son could not but thrive in return for so great a favour.  So it was a blow to him that Paul did not grow into a burly, hearty fellow.  All their vigilance and care could not make him a sturdy boy.