I hesitated for a moment, feeling a little awkward and strange, but I

was soon after as busy as he.

"Not going to be ill, I see," he said suddenly. "You must be on the

look-out another time. Accident--Ike didn't mean it."

I was going to say I was sure of that, when he went on: "So you haven't made friends with Shock?"

"No, sir."

"Well, don't."

"I will not if you don't wish it, sir," I said eagerly.

"Be kind to him, and keep him in his place. Hasn't been rough to you,

has he?"

"Oh no!" I said. "He only seems disposed to play tricks."

"Yes, like a monkey. Rum fellow, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir. He isn't--"

"Bit of an idiot, eh? Oh no! he's sharp enough. I let him do as he

likes for the present. Awkward boy to manage."

"Is he, sir?"

"Yes, my lad. Ike found him under the horses' hoofs one night, going up

to market. Little fellow had crawled out into the road. Left in the

ditch by some one or another. Ike put him in a half-sieve basket with

some hay, and fixed him in with some sticks same as we cover fruit, and

he curled up and went to sleep till Ike brought him in to me in the

yard."

"But where were his father and mother?" I cried.

"Who knows!" said Old Brownsmith, poking at a bit of brown crust in his

basin of milk. "Ike brought him to me grinning, and he said, `Here's

another cat for you, master.' "I was very angry," said the old gentleman after a pause; "but just then

the little fellow--he was about a year old--put his head up through the

wooden bars and looked at me, and I told one of the women to give him

something to eat. After that I sent him to the workhouse, where they

took care of him, and one day when he got bigger I gave him a treat, and

had him here for a day's holiday. Then after a twelvemonth, I gave him

another holiday, and I should have given him two a year, only he was

such a young rascal. The workhouse master said he could do nothing with

him. He couldn't make him learn anything--even his letters. The only

thing he would do well was work in the garden."

"Same as he does now, sir?" I said, for I was deeply interested.

"Same as he does now," assented Old Brownsmith. "Then one day after I

had given him his treat, I suppose when he was about ten years old, I

found him in the garden. He had run away from the workhouse school."

"And did he stay here, sir?"

"No, I sent him back, Grant, and he ran away again. I sent him back

once more, but he came back; and at last I got to be tired of it, for

the more I sent him back the more he came."




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