He looked up into his face with a
sharp, incredulous gaze, ready to wink and thrust his tongue into his
cheek, if there was the least sign of making game of him. But the old
man was simply in earnest, and without a word Tony slipped down upon a
heap of paper shavings strewed within, drew his ragged jacket up about
his ears, and turned his face away, lest his tears should be seen. He
felt, a minute or two after, that a piece of an old rug was laid over
him, but he could say nothing; and old Oliver could not hear the sob
which broke from his lips.
CHAPTER VIII.
NO PIPE FOR OLD OLIVER.
As some weeks went by, and no crossing and broom had been given to Tony,
he began to suspect that Oliver was imposing upon him. Now that he slept
under the counter, he could often hear the old man talking aloud to his
invisible Friend as he smoked his pipe; and once or twice Tony crept
noiselessly to the door and watched him, after he had finished smoking,
kneel down and hide his face in his hands for some minutes together. But
the boy could see nothing, and his wish had not been granted; even
though, as he grew more instructed, he followed Oliver's example, and,
kneeling down behind the counter, whispered out a prayer for it.
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