All at once, as I was bending down, I heard Courtenay, the elder boy,

say: "What did he say--back to school and be flogged?"

"Yes," said Philip aloud; "but he didn't know. They only flog workhouse

boys and paupers."

"I say, though," said Courtenay, "who is that chap grubbing out the

slugs and snails?"

My back was turned, and I went on with my work. "What! that chap I

spoke to?" said Philip; "why, I told you. He's a pauper."

"Is he?"

"Yes, and Browny fetched him from the workhouse. Brought him home in

the cart. He's going to be a caterpillar crusher."

I felt as if I should have liked to be a boy crusher, and have run at

him with my fists clenched, and drubbed him till he roared for mercy,

but I did not stir.

"Then what's he doing here?" said Courtenay in a sour, morose tone of

voice. "He ought to be among the cabbages, and not here."

This was as if they were talking to themselves, but meant for me to

hear.

"Old Browny was afraid to put him there for fear he'd begin wolfing

them. I caught him as soon as he came. He got loose, and I found him

in the peach-house eating the peaches, but I dropped on to him with the

cane and made the beggar howl."

"Old Browny ought to look after him," said Courtenay.

"Don't I tell you he ran away. I expect Browny will have to put a

dog-collar and chain on him, and drive a stake down in the

kitchen-garden to keep him from eating the cabbages when he's

caterpillaring. These workhouse boys are such hungry beggars."

"Put a muzzle on him like they do on a ferret," said Courtenay; and then

they laughed together.

"Hasn't he got a rum phiz?" said Philip, who, I soon found, was the

quicker with his tongue.

"Yes; don't talk so loud: he'll hear you. Just like a monkey," said

Courtenay; and they laughed again.

"I say, is he going to stop?" said Courtenay.

"I suppose so. They want a boy to scrape the shovels and light the

fires, and go up the hothouse chimneys to clear out the soot. He's just

the sort for that."

"He'll have to polish Old Browny's boots, too."

"Yes; and wash Mother Browny's stockings. I say, Court, don't he look a

hungry one?"

"Regular wolf," said Courtenay; and there was another laugh.

"I say," said Courtenay, "I don't believe he's a workhouse."

"He is, I tell you; Browny went and bought him yesterday. They sell 'em

cheap. You can have as many as you like almost for nothing. They're

glad to get rid of 'em."

"I wonder what they'd say to poor old Shock!" I thought to myself.

"I'm glad he isn't here."




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