“I should be very lonesome without them,” answered Oliver.  “Good-bye, Charlotte, good-bye, and God bless you.  Come again as soon as you can.”

He went with her to the door, and stayed to watch her along the quiet alley, till she turned into the street.  Then, with a last nod to the back of her bonnet, as she passed out of his sight, he returned slowly into his dark shop, put up the flap of the counter, and retreated to the darker room within.  Hot as it was, he fancied it was growing a little chilly with the coming of the night, and he drew on his old coat, and threw a handkerchief over his white head, and then sat down in the dusk, looking out into his shop and the alley beyond it.  He must have fallen into a doze after a while, being overcome with the heat, and lulled by the constant hum of the streets, which reached his dull ear in a softened murmur; for at length he started up almost in a fright, and found that complete darkness had fallen upon him suddenly, as it seemed to him.  A church clock was striking nine, and his shop was not closed yet.  He went out hurriedly to put the shutters up.

CHAPTER II.

WAIFS and strays.

In the shop it was not yet so dark but that old Oliver could see his way out with the shutters, which during the day occupied a place behind the door.  He lifted the flap of the counter, and was about to go on with his usual business, when a small voice, trembling a little, and speaking from the floor at his very feet, caused him to pause suddenly.

“Please, rere’s a little girl here,” said the voice.

Oliver stooped down to bring his eyes nearer to the ground, until he could make out the indistinct outline of the figure of a child, seated on his shop floor, and closely hugging a dog in her arms.  Her face looked small to him; it was pale, as if she had been crying quietly, and though he could not see them, a large tear stood on each of her cheeks.

“What little girl are you?” he asked, almost timidly.

“Rey called me Dolly,” answered the child.

“Haven’t you any other name?” inquired old Oliver

“Nosing else but Poppet,” she said; “rey call me Dolly sometimes, and Poppet sometimes.  Ris is my little dog, Beppo.”

She introduced the dog by pushing its nose into his hand, and Beppo complacently wagged his tail and licked the old man’s withered fingers.

“What brings you here in my shop, my little woman?” asked Oliver.

“Mammy brought me,” she said, with a stifled sob; “she told me run in rere, Dolly, and stay till mammy comes back, and be a good girl always.  Am I a good girl?”

“Yes, yes,” he answered, soothingly; “you’re a very good little girl, I’m sure; and mother ’ill come back soon, very soon.  Let us go to the door, and look for her.”