He ran
down the alley, and passed through the shop whistling cheerily, and
disdaining to lift the flap of the counter, he took a running vault over
it, and landed at once inside the open kitchen-door.
But there was old Oliver sitting close to the fire, with Dolly on his
knee, and her little head lying upon his breast, while the tears trickled
slowly down his furrowed cheeks on to her pretty curls. Beppo was
standing between his legs, licking Dolly's small hand, which hung
languidly by her side. Her eyelids were closed, and her face was deadly
white; but when Tony uttered a great cry of trouble, and fell on his
knees before her, she opened her heavy eyes, and stretched out her cold
thin hand to stroke his cheeks. "Dolly's so very ill, Tony," she
murmured, "poor Dolly's very ill indeed."
"I don't know whatever is the matter with my little love," said the old
man, in a low and trembling voice; "she fell down all of a sudden, and I
thought she was dead, Tony; but she's coming round again now. Isn't my
little love better now?"
"Yes, gan-pa, yes; Dolly's better," she answered faintly.
"Let me hold her, master," said Tony, his heart beating fast; "I can
hold her stronger and more comfortable, maybe, than you.
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