DICK.

OrICK was a tall, thin, starved-
looking boy, with a little
jacket, the sleeves of which
crept half-way up his arms,
jo anda hat that was nothing
== ZObut a brim; and when she
ff first saw him he was eating
a crust from a gutter. She
was only a poor old wo-
man, who kept a little shop
for candy. and trimmings,
5 and poor enough herself;

but, as she said, he looked a little like what her Tom
might have been if he had grown up and been neg-
lected, and she couldn't stand it. She called to him,—

‘Come here, sonny,’ Said she; and the boy came.
Before she could speak, he said,—

‘I didn’t doit. Il take my oath on anything I
didn’t do it

‘Didn’t do what?’ said the old woman.

' ‘Break your window,’ said the boy.

‘Why, I broke that myself with my shutter last
night,’ said the old woman. ‘I am not strong enough

» to lift them’ ee

‘If I’m about here when you shut up, I’ll come
and do it for you,’ said the boy. ‘ What was it that
you wanted me for?’

‘I wanted to know what you ate that dry crust
out of the gutter for,’ said she.

‘Hungry,’ said he; ‘T’ve tried to get a job all day.
I’m going to sleep in an area over there after it gets
too dark for the policeman to see, and you can’t have
a good night’s sleep without some supper.’

‘Tl give you some that’s cleaner,’ said the old
woman.

‘That will be begging,’ said he.

‘No,’ said she; ‘you can sweep the shop and the
pavement, and put up the shutters for it.’

‘Very well,’ said he. ‘Thankee then.
up first Pll feel better.’

She brought him a broom, and he did his work
well. Afterwards he ate’ his supper with a relish.
That night he slept, not in the area, but under the
old woman’s counter.

He had told her his story. His name was Dick ;
he was twelve years old, and his father, whom he
had never seen sober, was in prison for killing his
mother.

The next morning the old woman engaged a clerk
for her small establishment. The terms were simple,
—‘ his living and a bed under the counter.’

When the neighbours heard of it they were
shocked. A street boy—a boy whom no one knew!
Did Mrs. Briggs really wish to be murdered in her
bed? But Mrs. Briggs felt quite safe. She had so
much time now that she was going to take in sewing.
Dick attended to the shop altogether. He kept it in
fine order, and increased the business. Pennies came
in as they never came in before, since he had painted
signs in red and biue ink to the effect that the real
old: sugar-candy was to be got there, and that this
was the place for nuts.

And in the evening, after the shop was shut up,

' the old body began to take him into her confidence.

 

If I sweep

  

 

The dream of her life was to buy herself into a
Home for the aged. It would cost her a hundred
pounds. She was saving for it.. She had saved
three years, and had fifteen of it. But it costs so
much to live, with tea so dear and loaves so small;
and she had been sick, and there was the doctor, and
Mrs. Jones’s Martha Jane to be paid for minding her
and the shop. After this Dick took the greatest in-
terest in the savings, and the winter months increased
them as though he had brought a blessing.

One night in spring they took the bag from under
her pillow, and counted what it held. It was thirty
pounds,

‘And ll begin to make kites to-morrow, Mrs.
Briggs,’ said the boy, ‘and you'll see the custom they
will bring. Ifa little shaver sees the kites, he’ll
spend all he has on them, and then coax his mother
for more.’

‘You're a clever boy yourself’ said the old woman,
and patted his hand.

Jt was a plumper hand than it had been when it
had picked the crust from the gutter, and he wore
clean, whole garments, though they were very coarse.

‘How wrong the neighbours were!’ she said;
‘that boy is the comfort of my life.’ f

So she went to bed with the treasure under her
pillow, and slept. Fat on in the night she awoke.
The room was quite dark—there was nota ray of
light—but she heard a step on the floor!

‘Who is that?’ she cried. :

There was no answer, but she felt that some one
was leaning over her bed. Then a hand clasped her
throat and held her down, and dragged out the bag
of money, and she was released. Half suffocated,
she for a moment found herself motionless and be-
wildered, conscious only of a draught of air from an
open door, and of some strange noises,

She hurried into the shop.

‘Dick! Dick!’ she cried. ‘Dick! Dick! Help!
Wake up! I’m robbed!’

But there was no answer; the door into the street
was wide open; and by the moonlight that poured
through it she saw, as she peered under the counter,
that Dick’s bed was empty. .The boy was gone!

Gone! gone! Oh, that was worse to poor Granny
Briggs than even the loss of the money; for she had
trusted him, and he had deceived her. She had
loved him, and he had abused her love. The neigh-
bours were right; she was a fool to trust a strange
street boy, and had been served rightly when he had
robbed her.

When the dawn broke the wise neighbours came
into poor Granny’s shop to find her crying and
rocking to and fro; and they told her they had told
her so, and she only shook her head. The shop took
care of itself that day. Life had lost its interest for
her. Her ‘occupation was gone,’ but not with her
savings. Money was but. money after all; he had
come to be the only thing she loved, and Dick had
robbed her !

It was ten o'clock. Granny sat moaning by the
empty hearth. Good-natured Mrs. Jones from up-
stairs was ‘seeing to things,’ and trying to cheer her,
when, suddenly, there came a rap on the door, and a
policeman looked in,

‘Mrs. Briggs?’ he said.

 

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