Very early in the morning, before the tardy daylight could creep into the darkened room, old Oliver was up and busy.  He had been in the habit of doing for himself, as he called it, ever since his daughter had forsaken him, and he was by nature fastidiously clean and neat.  But now there would be additional duties for him during the next three days; for there would be Dolly to wash, and dress, and provide breakfast for.  Every few minutes he stole a look at her lying still asleep; and as soon as he discovered symptoms of awaking, he hastily lifted Beppo on to the bed, that her opening eyes should be greeted by some familiar sight.  She stretched out her wonderful little hands, and caught hold of the dog’s rough head before venturing to lift her eyelids, while Oliver looked on in speechless delight.  At length she ventured to peep slyly at him, and then addressed herself to Beppo.

“What am I to call ris funny old man, Beppo?” she asked.

“I am your grandpa, my darling,” said Oliver, in his softest voice.

“Are you God-bless-gan-pa?” inquired Dolly, sitting up on her pillow, and staring very hard with her blue eyes into his wrinkled face.

“Yes, I am,” he answered, looking at her anxiously.

“Dolly knows,” she said, counting upon her little fingers; “rere’s father, and mammy, and Beppo; and now rere’s gan-pa.  Dolly’ll get up now.”

She flung her arms suddenly about his neck and kissed him, while old Oliver trembled with intense joy.  It was quite a marvel to him how she helped him to dress her, laughing merrily at the strange mistakes he made in putting on her clothes the wrong side before; and when he assured her that her mother would come back very soon, she seemed satisfied to put up with any passing inconvenience.  The shop, with its duties, and the necessity of getting in his daily stock of newspapers, entirely slipped his memory; and he was only recalled to it by a very loud rapping at the door as he was pouring out Dolly’s breakfast.  To his great surprise he discovered that he had forgotten to take down his shutters, though it was past the hour when his best customers passed by.

The person knocking proved to be none other than Tony, who greeted the old man’s appearance with a prolonged whistle, and a grave and reproachful stare.

“Come,” he said, in a tone of remonstrance, “this’ll never do, you know.  Business is business, and must be minded.  You pretty nearly frightened me into fits; anybody could have knocked me down with a straw when I see the shutters up.  How is she?”

“She’s very well, thank you, my boy,” answered Oliver, meekly.

“Mother not turned up, I guess?” said Tony.

“No; she comes on Friday,” he replied.

Tony winked, and put his tongue into his cheek; but he gave utterance to no remark until after the shutters were in their place.  Then he surveyed himself as well as he could, with an air of satisfaction.  His face and hands were clean, and his skin looked very white through the holes in his tattered clothes; even his feet, except for an unavoidable under surface of dust, were unsoiled.  His jacket and trousers appeared somewhat more torn than the evening before; but they bore every mark of having been washed also.