On this he laid Andy, who was fast asleep almost as soon as down.
"Poor little chap!" said the man, in a tender, half-broken voice, as he stood over the sleeping child, candle in hand.

"Poor little chap!" The sight troubled him.

He turned with a quick, disturbed movement and put the candle down.

The light streaming upward into his face showed the countenance of a man so degraded by intemperance that everything attractive had died out of it.

His clothes were scanty, worn almost to tatters, and soiled with the slime and dirt of many an ash-heap or gutter where he had slept off his almost daily fits of drunkenness.
There was an air of irresolution about him, and a strong play of feeling in his marred, repulsive face, as he stood by the table on which he had set the candle.