CHAPTER XII.

Tony’s welcome.

Almost without knowing where his feet were carrying him, Tony sauntered through the streets until he found himself at the turn into the alley within a few yards of Oliver’s home, and his beloved Dolly.  At any rate he could pass down it, and, if the shop-door was not shut, he would wrap his beautiful silver coin in a rag, and throw it into the inside; they would be sure to guess who had done it, and what it was for.  It was dark down the alley, only one lamp and the greengrocer’s gas lighting it up, and Tony stole along quietly in the shadow.  It was nearly time for Dolly to be going to bed, he thought, and old Oliver was sure to be with her in the inner room; but just as he came into the revealing glare of the greengrocer’s stall, his ears rang and his heart throbbed violently at the sound of a shrill little scream of gladness, and the next moment he felt himself caught by Dolly’s arms, and dragged into the house by them.

“Tony’s come home, Tony’s come home, gan-pa!” she shouted with all her might.  “Dolly’s found Tony at last!”

Dolly’s voice quivered, and broke down into quick, childish sobs, while she held Tony very fast, lest he should escape from her once again; and old Oliver came quickly from the room beyond, and laid his hand fondly upon the boy’s shoulder.

“Why have you kept away from us so long, Tony?” he asked.

“Oh, master!” he cried, “I’ve been a wicked boy, and a miserable boy.  Do forgive me, and I’ll never do so no more.  I s’pose you’ll never let me sleep under the counter again?”

“Come in, come in!” answered Oliver, pushing him gently before him into the house.  “We’ve been waiting and watching for you every night, me and my little love.  You ought not to have served us so, my lad; but we’re too glad to be angry with you.  Charlotte’s sharp, and she’s very much afraid of low ways and manners; but she isn’t a hard woman, and she didn’t know anything about you.  When I told her as you’d been left no bigger than my little love here to take care of yourself, alone, in London,—­mother dead, and no father,—­she shed tears about you, she did.  And she left you the biggest of her eggs to be kept for your supper, with her kind love; and we’ve put it by for you.  You shall have it this very night.  Dolly, my love, bring me the little saucepan.”

“I’m not so clean as I could wish,” said Tony, mournfully; for he had neglected himself during the last week, and looked very much like what he had done when he had first seen old Oliver and his little grand-daughter.

“Take a bowl full of water into the shop, then,” answered Oliver, “and wash yourself, while I boil the egg.  Dolly’ll find you a bit of soap and a towel; she’s learning to be grand-pa’s little housekeeper, she is.”