“Thank you for my breakfast,” he said, with a choking voice; “only if I do come to see you, it’ll be to see her again—­not for anythink as I can get.”

CHAPTER V.

Forsaken again.

The next three days were a season of unmixed happiness to old Oliver.  The little child was so merry, yet withal so gentle and sweet-tempered, that she kept him in a state of unwearied delight, without any alloy of anxiety or trouble.  She trotted at his side with short, running footsteps, when he went out early in the morning to fetch his daily stock of newspapers.  She watched him set his room tidy, and made believe to help him by dusting the legs and seats of his two chairs.  She stood with folded hands and serious face, looking on as he was busy with his cooking.  When she was not thus engaged she played contentedly with Beppo, prattling to him in such a manner, that Oliver often forgot what he was about while listening to her.  She played with him, too, frolicsome little games of hide-and-seek, in which he grew as eager as herself; and sometimes she stole his spectacles, or handkerchief, or anything she could lay her mischievous fingers upon to hide away in some unthought-of spot; while her shrewd, cunning little face put on an expression of profound gravity as old Oliver sought everywhere for them.

As Friday evening drew near, the old man’s gladness took a shade of anxiety.  His daughter was coming home to him, and his heart was full of unutterable joy and gratitude; but he did not know exactly how they should go on in the future.  He was averse to change; yet this little house, with its single room, to which he had moved when she forsook him, was too scanty in its accommodation.  He had made up a rude sort of bed for himself under the counter in the shop, and was quite ready to give up his own to Susan and his little love, as he called Dolly; but would Susan let him have his own way in this, and many other things?  He provided a sumptuous tea, and added a fresh salad to it from the greengrocer’s next door; but though he and Dolly waited and watched till long after the child’s bed-time, taking occasional snatches of bread and butter, still Susan did not arrive.  At length a postman entered the little shop with a noise which made Oliver’s heart beat violently, and tossed a letter down upon the counter.  He carried it to the door, where there was still light enough to read it, and saw that it was in Susan’s handwriting.

“My dear and dearest father,

“My heart is almost broke, betwixt one thing and another.  His regiment is to set sail immediate, and the colonel’s lady has offered me very handsome wages to go out with her as lady’s maid, her own having disappointed her at the last moment; which I could do very well, knowing the dressmaking.  He said, ’Do come, Susan, and I’ll never get drunk again, so help me God; and if you don’t,