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With the fickleness of night-thoughts his musings flitted back to step-ones again. He shut his eyes and tried to imagine just the right kind of one, the kind a boy would be glad to have come home with his Dadsy. It looked an easy thing to do, but there were limitations. "If I'd ever had a real one, it would be easier," Morry thought wistfully. Of course, any amount easier!
You could count the days and learn pieces to surprise him with when he got back, and keep saying, "Won't it be splendid!" But this time well, this time it scared you to have Dadsy come home. And if you learned a hundred pieces you knew you'd never say 'em to him now. And you kept saying, "Won't it be puffectly dreadful!" "Won't you have the lamps lit, Master Morris?"
He sank back wearily on his cushions and wished other things, too: That Ellen would come in, but that wasn't a very big wish, because Ellens aren't any good at looking up words. That dictionaries grew on your side o' the room, that wish was a funny one! That Dadsy would come home oh, oh, that Dadsy would come home!
It's when it's too dark to read and too light for Ellens to come and light the lamps that you say "Come in!" to your troubles. They're always there waiting. If Dadsy hadn't gone away to do that. If he'd just gone on reg'lar business, or on a hurry-trip across the ocean, or something like that.
But it would only be Dadsy and a step-one, Jolly's kind, most likely. Jolly's kind was pretty, she might be pretty. But she would not come smiling and creeping out of the dark with a halo over her head. That kind came in dreams. Jolly's whistle was comforting to hear. Morry leaned out of his cushions to wave his hand. Jolly was going to school; when he came whistling back, she would be here.
'Dot a shoul, replied Barney; whose words: whether they came from the heart or not: made their way through the nose. 'Nobody? inquired Fagin, in a tone of surprise: which perhaps might mean that Barney was at liberty to tell the truth. 'Dobody but Biss Dadsy, replied Barney. 'Nancy! exclaimed Sikes. 'Where? Strike me blind, if I don't honour that 'ere girl, for her native talents.
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