“Poor child! But he will soon forget her, and—he shall be taken care of. We will get him to the Highlands after a while, and then he will grow into a sturdy mountaineer,” said Everage to himself. And soon after this he got up and went away. Later, the two men and the woman came in and drank themselves drunk, and then flung themselves down to sleep themselves sober. Little Lenny slept on in his pallet watched by Meg. So passed the first day of the child’s captivity. On the second and third days the old crone abandoned her post at St. Mary’s le Strand, and, hoping to make more by the beautiful boy, dressed him in rags, and telling him it was all for fun, and promising to take him to Drusilla, went out to beg with him. But she carefully avoided the haunts where he or she had been seen, and took to other quarters of the city. On one of these begging excursions at the Railway Station, Lenny had recognized Dick and called to him, as has been related. But the beldam hastily covered the boy’s head with a ragged shawl, plunged into the crowd and disappeared, leaving Dick bewildered. On that night, when she took the child home to the miserable garret, she found Everage waiting there. Everage was in a great panic. He told her that posters were out all over London advertising the loss of the child, describing his person and dress, and offering a large reward for his recovery. He assured her that, if the child were found in their possession, the whole lot of them would be sent to prison and to penal servitude, and enjoined them to keep him very closely in the attic until a favorable opportunity should occur of taking him out of the country. He promised them further and greater rewards if they would faithfully follow his instructions; and having received their pledge to obey him, he left the house. From this day Lenny was confined to the miserable attic and taken care of by Meg. She watched him by night, and tended him by day; she washed, dressed and fed him; she tried to amuse and console him; she sung all the songs she knew and told all the tales; and she wept when he cried, and she smiled when he laughed; and, though her nature was truthful, she told lots of lies to little Lenny to account for the non-appearance of Doosa, promising every morning that Doosa would certainly come that day. Little Lenny at first believed this; but daily disappointment at length disturbed his faith. And day by day he pined and pined, wailing in a tone of despair that nearly broke Meg’s heart: “No, no, no, Doosa not tome. _Doosa done away! Doosa done away!_” CHAPTER XXXIV. THE PEACE-OFFERING. I give thee all I can, no more. Alexander Lyon arrived in London on the morning train, and in a pouring rain. He was pale and faint from his long illness and his fatiguing journey, but he was sustained by intense mental excitement.