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In a quiet, decent place, among people whom he knows will only treat the boy with kindness, Allan finds Jo a room.

“Look here, Jo,” says Allan, “this is Mr. George. He is a kind friend to you, for he is going to give you a lodging here. You are quite safe here. All you have to do at present is to be obedient, and to get strong; and mind you tell us the truth here, whatever you do, Jo.”

“Wishermaydie if I don’t, sir,” says Jo, reverting to his favourite declaration. “I never done nothink yet but wot you knows on to get myself into no trouble. I never wos in no other trouble at all, sir, ‘cept not knowing nothink and starwation.”

“I believe it,” said Allan; “and now you must lie down and rest.”

“Let me lay here quiet, and not be chivied any more,” falters Jo, after he has been assisted to his bed and given medicine; “and be so kind any person as is a-passing nigh where I used fur to sweep, as to say to Mr. Snagsby that Jo, wot he knowed wunst, is a-movin’ on right forards with his duty, and I’ll be wery thankful!”

At the boy’s request, later, Mr. Snagsby is sent for, and Jo is very glad to see his old friend, and says when they are alone that he “takes it uncommon kind as Mr. Snagsby should come so far out of his way on account of sich as him.”

“Mr. Snagsby,” says Jo, “I went and give an illness to a lady, and none of ’em never says nothink to me for having done it, on account of their being so good and my having been so unfortnet. The lady come herself and see me yes’day, and she ses, ‘Jo,’ she ses, ‘we thought we’d lost you, Jo,’ she ses; and she sits down a-smilin’ so quiet, and don’t pass a word nor yit a look upon me for having done it, she don’t; and I turns agin the wall, I doos, Mr. Snagsby. And Mr. Woodcot, he come to give me somethink to ease me, wot he’s allus a-doing on day and night, and wen he come over me and a-speakin’ up so bold, I see his tears a-fallin’, Mr. Snagsby.”

After this, Jo lies in a stupor most of the time, and Allan Woodcourt, coming in a little later, stands looking down on the wasted form, thinking of the thousands of strong, merry boys to whom the story of Jo’s life would sound incredible. As he stands there, Jo rouses with a start.

“Well, Jo, what is the matter? Don’t be frightened.”

“I thought,” says Jo, who had stared and is looking around, “I thought I wos in Tom-all-Alone’s again. Ain’t there nobody here but you, Mr. Woodcot?”

“Nobody.”

“And I ain’t took back to Tom-all-Alone’s. Am I, sir?”

“No.”

Jo closes his eyes, muttering, “I’m wery thankful!”

After watching him closely for a little while, Allan puts his mouth very near his ear, and says to him in a low, distinct voice:

“Jo, did you ever know a prayer?”

“Never knowed no think, sir!”

“Not so much as one short prayer?”

“No, sir. Nothink at all, sir. Mr. Chadbands he wos a-praying wunst at Mr. Snagsby’s, and I heerd him, but he sounded as if he wos a-speaking to hisself and not to me. He prayed a lot, but I couldn’t make out nothink on it. I never knowed wot it wos all about.”

It takes him a long time to say this, and few but an experienced and attentive listener could hear, or hearing understand him. After a short relapse into sleep or a stupor he makes of a sudden a strong effort to get out of bed.

“Stay, Jo, what now?”

“It’s time for me to go to that there berrying-ground, sir,” he returned with a wild look.

“Lie down and tell me what burying-ground, Jo.”

“Where they laid him as wos wery good to me; wery good to me indeed he wos! It’s time for me to go down to that there berrying-ground and ask to be put along with him. I wants to go there and be berried. He used fur to say to me, ‘I am as poor as you to-day, Jo,’ he says. I wants to tell him that I am as poor as him now, and have come there to be laid along with him.”

“By-and-by, Jo, by-and-by.”

“Ah! P’raps they wouldn’t do it if I wos to go myself. But will you promise to have me took there, sir, and laid along with him?”

“I will, indeed!”

“Thank ‘ee, sir. Thank ‘ee, sir. They’ll have to get the key of the gate afore they can take me in, for it’s always locked. And there ‘s a step there as I used fur to clean with my broom. It’s turned very dark, sir. Is there any light a-coming?”

“It is coming fast, Jo, my poor fellow.”

“I hear you, sir, in the dark, but I’m a-gropin’–a-gropin’–let me catch hold of your hand!”

“Jo, can you say what I say?”

“I’ll say anythink as you say, sir, fur I knows it’s good.”

“OUR FATHER,”

“Our Father–yes, that’s wery good, sir.”

“WHICH ART IN HEAVEN,”

“Art in Heaven–is the light a-coming, sir?”

“It is close at hand–HALLOWED BE THY NAME.”

“Hallowed be–thy—-“

The light is come upon the dark benighted way. The bewildering path is cleared of shadows at last. Jo has moved on to a home prepared by Eternal Love for such as he.