And she clasped him to her heart in almost hysterical passion, and kissed him, and shook him, and danced him until he laughed. And then a sort of tacit, but well understood, compromise took place between them—that one would not cry if the other did not, that is if either could help it. It was long past noon when the men woke from their drunken sleep. First Red Roger tumbled up from the floor, rubbed his eyes, stared about him, yawned, and sat down on the side of the bed to steady himself. Then he got up, and walked across the room to where Meg sat with the child. He stared at him for a few moments, while little Lenny met the stare with unquailing eyes, and Meg trembled lest the ruffian should miss the shilling from his pocket; and then, saying: “Keep that little fellow close, mind you!” he took himself off, greatly to Meg’s relief. Then Black Bill reared his lofty height from the boards, tottered on his feet, reeled towards the table, sat down upon it, for a few moments, to yawn and stretch his limbs, and then he went away. These worthy gentlemen seldom breakfasted at home. All that day, Meg had a hard time with little Lenny. The poor girl told all the stories and sung all the songs she knew, and did her best to comfort and amuse him. And the baby-boy tried his best to be a little gentleman, and to keep his promise not to cry; yet every little while, he would burst into heart-breaking sobs and tears, and cries, the burden of which was: “I want to see Doosa! I want to see Doosa so much!” At length, late in the afternoon, he succumbed to the influence of excitement, and fell asleep. And then Meg made his pallet with one hand, while she held him with the other, and laid him down. Leaving him asleep, she went out and spent her last three-pence left of the shilling, and bought him a mug of milk and a penny-roll for his supper. These she brought home, and put away. And then she sat down to watch by the sleeping boy. That evening Everage came in before the return of the others. “I am glad I have found you alone, my girl,” he said. “I have brought a little money to buy some clean bedding for the boy, and I think I would rather trust you to spend it than another. Can you do it?” “Oh, yes, sir.” “It doesn’t take much to buy cheap bedding for a baby and the cheaper you can get this the better, so it is clean. Here are ten shillings; will that do?” “Yes, sir; and if there’s any over I will keep it to buy milk for him.” “Quite right. And now let me look at him,” said Everage, going up and gazing on the sleeping child. There was a tear resting on little Lenny’s rosy cheeks, which Everage in his awakening remorse could not endure to see; so he quickly turned away his head, and he asked Meg: “Has the child cried much to-day?” “Oh yes, sir; he has cried a great deal indeed for his mother.”