But the pair of shoes he had worn when he left Boston were still considered good enough, if thought of at all, notwithstanding they gaped largely at the toes, and had been worn so thin in the soles that scarcely the thickness of a knife-blade lay between his feet and the snow-covered ground.

In regard to sleeping, he was not much better off.

His bed was of straw, upon the floor, in a large unplastered garret, and but scantily supplied with covering.
Here he would creep away alone in the dark every night, on being driven away to bed from crouching beside the warm kitchen fire after his daily toil was done, and get under the thin covering with all his clothes on.

There he would lie, all drawn up into a heap to keep warm, and think of his mother, and long for New Year's day to come, until sleep would lock up his senses in unconsciousness.
At last it was New Year's eve, but the poor child had heard no word about going home.

He could sleep but little through that night for thinking about the promised return to his mother on the next day, and for the dread he felt lest Mr.Sharp had forgotten, or would disregard his promise.