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himself when the shock was announced； and never took to that luxury any
more。 He had been a very indifferent musical amateur in his better days；
and when he fell with his brother； resorted for support to playing a
clario as dirty as himself in a small Theatre Orchestra。 It was the
theatre in which his niece became a dancer； he had been a fixture there
a long time when she took her poor station in it； and he accepted
the task of serving as her escort and guardian； just as he would have
accepted an illness； a legacy； a feast； starvation……anything but soap。
To enable this girl to earn her few weekly shillings； it was necessary
for the Child of the Marshalsea to go through an elaborate form with the
Father。
'Fanny is not going to live with us just now； father。 She will be here a
good deal in the day； but she is going to live outside with uncle。'
'You surprise me。 Why？'
'I think uncle wants a panion； father。 He should be attended to； and
looked after。'
'A panion？ He passes much of his time here。 And you attend to him and
look after him； Amy； a great deal more than ever your sister will。 You
all go out so much； you all go out so much。'
This was to keep up the ceremony and pretence of his having no idea that
Amy herself went out by the day to work。
'But we are always glad to e home； father； now； are we not？ And as to
Fanny； perhaps besides keeping uncle pany and taking care of him； it
may be as well for her not quite to live here； always。 She was not born
here as I was； you know； father。'
'Well； Amy； well。 I don't quite follow you； but it's natural I suppose
that Fanny should prefer to be outside； and even that you often should；
too。 So； you and Fanny and your uncle； my dear； shall have your own way。
Good； good。 I'll not meddle； don't mind me。'
To get her brother out of the prison； out of the succession to Mrs
Bangham in executing missions； and out of the slang interchange with
very doubtful panions consequent upon both； was her hardest task。 At
eighteen he would have dragged on from hand to mouth； from hour to hour；
from penny to penny； until eighty。 Nobody got into the prison from whom
he derived anything useful or good； and she could find no patron for him
but her old friend and godfather。
'Dear Bob；' said she； 'what is to bee of poor Tip？' His name was
Edward； and Ted had been transformed into Tip； within the walls。
The turnkey had strong private opinions as to what would bee of
poor Tip； and had even gone so far with the view of averting their
fulfilment； as to sound Tip in reference to the expediency of running
away and going to serve his country。 But Tip had thanked him； and said
he didn't seem to care for his country。
'Well； my dear；' said the turnkey； 'something ought to be done with him。
Suppose I try and get him into the law？'
'That would be so good of you； Bob！'
The turnkey had now two points to put to the professional gentlemen as
they passed in and out。 He put this second one so perseveringly that
a stool and twelve shillings a week were at last found for Tip in the
office of an attorney in a great National Palladium called the Palace
Court； at that time one of a considerable list of everlasting bulwarks
to the dignity and safety of Albion； whose places know them no more。
Tip languished in Clifford's Inns for six months； and at the expiration
of that term sauntered back one evening with his hands in his pockets；
and incidentally observed to his sister that he was not going back
again。
'Not going back again？' said the poor little anxious Child of the
Marshalsea； always calculating and planning for Tip； in the front rank
of her charges。
'I am so tired of it；' said Tip； 'that I have cut it。'
Tip tired of everything。 With intervals of Marshalsea lounging； and Mrs
Bangham succession； his small second mother； aided by her trusty friend；
got him into a warehouse； into a market garden； into the hop trade；
into the law again； into an auctioneers； into a brewery； into a
stockbroker's； into the law again； into a coach office； into a waggon
office； into the law again； into a general dealer's； into a distillery；
into the law again； into a wool house； into a dry goods house； into the
Billingsgate trade； into the foreign fruit trade； and into the docks。
But whatever Tip went into； he came out of tired； announcing that he
had cut it。 Wherever he went； this foredoomed Tip appeared to take the
prison walls with him； and to set them up in such trade or calling；
and to prowl about within their narrow limits in the old slip…shod；
purposeless； down…at…heel way； until the real immovable Marshalsea walls
asserted their fascination over him； and brought him back。
Nevertheless； the brave little creature did so fix her heart on her
brother's rescue； that while he was ringing out these doleful changes；
she pinched and scraped enough together to ship him for Canada。 When he
was tired of nothing to do； and disposed in its turn to cut even that；
he graciously consented to go to Canada。 And there was grief in her
bosom over parting with him； and joy in the hope of his being put in a
straight course at last。
'God bless you； dear Tip。 Don't be too proud to e and see us； when
you have made your fortune。'
'All right！' said Tip； and went。
But not all the way to Canada； in fact； not further than Liverpool。
After making the voyage to that port from London； he found himself
so strongly impelled to cut the vessel； that he resolved to walk back
again。 Carrying out which intention； he presented himself before her at
the expiration of a month； in rags； without shoes； and much more tired
than ever。 At length； after another interval of successorship to Mrs
Bangham； he found a pursuit for himself； and announced it。
'Amy； I have got a situation。'
'Have you really and truly； Tip？'
'All right。 I shall do now。 You needn't look anxious about me any more；
old girl。'
'What is it； Tip？'
'Why； you know Slingo by sight？'
'Not the man they call the dealer？'
'That's the chap。 He'll be out on Monday； and he's going to give me a
berth。'
'What is he a dealer in； Tip？'
'Horses。 All right！ I shall do now； Amy。'
She lost sight of him for months afterwards； and only heard from him
once。 A whisper passed among the elder collegians that he had been seen
at a mock auction in Moorfields； pretending to buy plated articles for
massive silver； and paying for them with the greatest liberality in
bank notes； but it never reached her ears。 One evening she was alone at
work……standing up at the window； to save the twilight lingering above
the wall……when he opened the door and walked in。
She kissed and weled him； but was afraid to ask him any questions。 He
saw how anxious and timid she was； and appeared sorry。
'I am afraid； Amy； you'll be vexed this time。 Upon my life I am！'
'I am very sorry to hear you say so； Tip。 Have you e back？'
'Why……yes。'
'Not expecting this time that what you had found would answer very well；
I am less surprised and sorry than I might have been； Tip。'
'Ah！ But that's not the worst of it。'
'Not the worst of it？'
'Don't look so startled。 No； Amy； not the worst of it。 I have e back；