Page:Foggerty.djvu/121

Rh been employed on odd jobs in the Pauper-Philosophy Office as a law-stationer's clerk; but old age came upon him, and his hand trembled so that he became unfit for his work. So he became a hanger-on to the office in which he had temporarily served, and picked up occasional coppers as a kind of out-door message carrier.

"Why you look out of sorts; had your dinner, Shab?" asked the clerk.

"No, sir, no—not yet."

"Thought not; you look hungry. Here's sixpence for you—no I haven't got it."

"Looks hungry," thought young John, "by Jove, he is hungry too. Here, my man," added he aloud, "here's a shilling for you, and in God's name get something to eat."

A clerk from another room burst into the office.

"What's this I hear about Jack Pounce come back again?" said the new comer. "Jack, old chap, doosid glad to see you. Why, what are you doing in a uniform?"

The answer was interrupted by an extraordinary proceeding on the part of poor old Shab.

"Jack! Young John! O God!"

And poor old Johnny Pounce fell into his son's arms.

So old, so feeble, so broken, had cheery little Johnny Pounce become since he went to the bad. His rusty old suit of clothes was the cast-off of a waiter, just as he himself was the cast-off of society. He was living in a miserable attic in Tothill Fields, and his