1/6 CHAPTER III. He went back to his own chair, where he smoked his Broseley pipe every night, and sank down in it, rubbing his legs softly; for it was a long time since he had nursed any child, and even Dolly's small weight was a burden to him. Her tiny clothes were scattered up and down, and there was no one beside himself to gather them together, and fold them straight. In shaking out her frock a letter fell from it, and Oliver picked it up wondering whoever it could be for. It was directed to himself, "Mr.James Oliver, News-agent," and he broke the seal with eager expectation. |