"I thought," says Jo, who had stared and is looking around, "I thought I wos in Tom-all-Alone's again. Ain't there nobody here but you, Mr. Woodcot?" "Nobody." "And I ain't took back to Tom-all-Alone's. Am I, sir?" "No." Jo closes his eyes, muttering, "I'm wery thankful!" After watching him closely for a little while, Allan puts his mouth very near his ear, and says to him in a low, distinct voice: "Jo, did you ever know a prayer?" "Never knowed no think, sir!" "Not so much as one short prayer?" "No, sir. Nothink at all, sir. Mr. Chadbands he wos a-praying wunst at Mr. Snagsby's, and I heerd him, but he sounded as if he wos a-speaking to hisself and not to me. He prayed a lot, but I couldn't make out nothink on it. I never knowed wot it wos all about." It takes him a long time to say this, and few but an experienced and attentive listener could hear, or hearing understand him. After a short relapse into sleep or a stupor he makes of a sudden a strong effort to get out of bed. "Stay, Jo, what now?" "It's time for me to go to that there berrying-ground, sir," he returned with a wild look. "Lie down and tell me what burying-ground, Jo." "Where they laid him as wos wery good to me; wery good to me indeed he wos! It's time for me to go down to that there berrying-ground and ask to be put along with him. I wants to go there and be berried. He used fur to say to me, 'I am as poor as you to-day, Jo,' he says. I wants to tell him that I am as poor as him now, and have come there to be laid along with him." "By-and-by, Jo, by-and-by." "Ah! P'raps they wouldn't do it if I wos to go myself. But will you promise to have me took there, sir, and laid along with him?" "I will, indeed!" "Thank 'ee, sir. Thank 'ee, sir. They'll have to get the key of the gate afore they can take me in, for it's always locked. And there 's a step there as I used fur to clean with my broom. It's turned very dark, sir. Is there any light a-coming?" "It is coming fast, Jo, my poor fellow." "I hear you, sir, in the dark, but I'm a-gropin'--a-gropin'--let me catch hold of your hand!" "Jo, can you say what I say?" "I'll say anythink as you say, sir, fur I knows it's good." "OUR FATHER," "Our Father--yes, that's wery good, sir." "WHICH ART IN HEAVEN," "Art in Heaven--is the light a-coming, sir?" "It is close at hand--HALLOWED BE THY NAME." "Hallowed be--thy----" The light is come upon the dark benighted way. The bewildering path is cleared of shadows at last. Jo has moved on to a home prepared by Eternal Love for such as he. PAUL DOMBEY [Illustration: PAUL DOMBEY AND HIS SISTER.]