So far as he knew, the Lord Jesus had taken no notice whatever of him; and the feeling, at first angry, softened down into a kind of patient grief, which was quickly dying away into indifference.
Oliver had done himself no bad turn by offering a shelter to the solitary lad.

Tony always woke early in the morning, and if it rained he would run for the papers, before turning out to "find for himself" in the streets.
He generally took care to be out of the way at meal-times; for it was as much as the old man could do to provide for himself and Dolly.

Sometimes Tony saw him at the till, counting over his pence with rather a troubled face.

Once, after receiving a silver fourpenny piece, an extraordinary and undreamed of event, Tony dropped it, almost with a feeling of guilt, through the slit in the counter which communicated with the till.

But Oliver was so bewildered by its presence among the coppers, that he was compelled to confess what he had done, saying it would have cost him more than that for lodgings these cold nights.
"No, no, Tony," said Oliver; "you're very useful, fetching my papers, and taking my little love out a-walking when the weather's fine.