When Tony returned to the kitchen he looked a different being; the gloom was gone as well as the grime.  He felt as if he had come to himself after a long and very miserable dream.  Here was old Oliver again, looking at him with a kindly light in his dim eyes, and Dolly dancing about, with her pretty merry little ways; and Beppo wagging his tail in joyous welcome, as he sniffed round and round him.  Even the egg was a token of forgiveness and friendliness.  That terrible old woman was not his enemy, after all.  He recollected what she had said he must do, and he resolved to do it for Dolly’s sake, and old Oliver’s.  He would learn to read and write, and he would pinch himself hard to buy some better clothing, lest he should continue to be a disgrace to them; shoes he must have first of all, as those were what the sharp but friendly old woman had particularly mentioned.  At any rate, he could never run away again from this home, where he was so loved and cared for.

Oliver told him how sadly Dolly had fretted after him, and watched for him at the door, hour after hour, to see him come home again.  He said that in the same way, only with a far greater longing and love, his Master, the Lord Jesus Christ, was waiting for Tony to go to him.  He could not half understand it, but a vague feeling of a love passing all understanding sank deeply into his heart.  He fell asleep that night under the counter with the tranquil peacefulness of one who has been tossed about in a great storm and tempest, and has been brought safely to the desired haven.

CHAPTER XIII.

New boots.

It was several weeks before Tony could scrape together enough money for his new boots, though he pinched and starved himself with heroic courage and endurance.  He did not mean to buy them at a shop; for he knew a place in Whitechapel where boots quite good enough for him were to be had for two or three shillings.  He was neither ambitious nor fastidious; old boots patched up would do very well to start with, if he could only manage to get them before aunt Charlotte came up to town again.  She had sent word she was coming the last Saturday in January; and early in the afternoon of that day, before the train could come in from Stratford, Tony started off to the place where he intended to make his purchase.

It was a small open space in one of the streets of Whitechapel, where there was an area of flags, lying off the pavement.  Several traders held possession of this square, sitting on low stools, or cross-legged on the ground, with their stock in trade around them.  One dealer bought and sold all kinds of old and rusty pieces of iron; another, a woman, ill clad and with red eyes, displayed before her a dingy assortment of ragged clothes, which were cheapened by other spare and red-eyed women, who held almost naked children by the hand.  It was cold, and a bitter, keen east