Saturday was always the busiest day of the week at B—, and on this afternoon the streets were thronged with farmers who jostled good-naturedly against each other as they discussed cattle and crops, whilst their wives and daughters stood behind the long rows of stalls, in the butter and poultry market, gossiping and doing business by turns.
"I always like the town best on a market day," remarked Bob to Tim, as they stood watching a cheap-jack selling umbrellas, and marvelling at his flow of words, which never seemed to fail. "It's fun watching the country people; they seem to be having such a good time. Oh, I say, Shuttleworth, do look at that old chap over there with those white rats. You haven't seen him, have you? Let us go and watch what he is doing. He's here every week."
They elbowed their way through the crowd until they found themselves close to a stall, behind which a hook-nosed old man, whom Tim recognised at once as Mr. Jacob Dottin, was haranguing several young farmers who were listening and laughing. Out of a box he had taken several white rats, one of which had perched itself on his shoulder, whilst another had hidden in his sleeve and the head of a third peeped out of the breast pocket of his coat; and ranged before him on the stall were scores of little blue paper packets.
"Isn't he a queer old chap?" whispered Bob. "His name is Dottin, and he has a shop in the place—in a back street it is."
"I know," Tim responded. "I've seen it. I suppose he is trying to see those rats?"
"Yes; and he sells rat poison, too—some patent stuff he makes himself. See, that farmer is going to have several packets. I'm not afraid of rats, but I shouldn't care to let them run over me like that, should you?"
Tim was about to reply when Mr. Dottin caught sight of him and recognised him with a most affable nod.
"You know him?" Bob exclaimed in surprise, as Tim, colouring, returned the old man's salutation.
"Yes," Tim answered, moving away from the stall, for he did not wish to give Mr. Dottin an opportunity of speaking to him, fearing he might refer, in Bob's presence, to the purchase of the rabbit. "I was standing outside his shop one day last week when he came out and invited me to look at his 'little family,' as he called his animals."
"That was really very jolly of him! He has quite a menagerie, I've heard."
"Yes, he has."
"Some of the Grammar School boys buy pets from him, but they say he's a regular old sweep—will take them in if he can, you know. What an oddity he looks, doesn't he?"
"Yes; but I don't think he's a bad sort of old fellow."
"I dare say not; he must be good-natured or he wouldn't have had you in to look at his stock. Wouldn't Kitty have liked to have been in your shoes! She's just crazed about animals."
"Mr. Dottin said I was welcome to have a look round his shop any time, and bring my friends," Tim explained, "so perhaps you and Kitty would like to pay the old fellow a visit with me, would you?" As he made this suggestion, he reflected that he could easily make a point of seeing Mr. Dottin beforehand, and ask him not to mention that there had been a business transaction between them.
"We should both like to have a good look at his animals, I'm sure," Bob rejoined eagerly, "but it can't be for a bit. You know the schools reopen next week—the Grammar School on Monday and Kitty's school on Thursday. We might go and see Mr. Dottin one Saturday afternoon."
"All right," agreed Tim.
Accordingly the plan was left in abeyance.
"I wish I was going to have a term's holiday, like you," said Bob a short while later, as they left the market-place and turned homewards. "It's so jolly to be able to do just what one likes, and Mr. Shuttleworth doesn't interfere with you in any way, does he?"
"Oh, no," Tim rejoined. "Sometimes I wish he did. He spends most of his days shut up in his study. He's writing a book—a tremendously clever book it is, I expect—but what about I haven't the least notion. He was always very learned even when he was a boy, I've heard father say. And he hasn't got to work for his living, so he can please himself how he spends his time."
"Is he better off than your father, then?" asked Bob, somewhat diffidently, for he did not know how his companion would take the question.
"Yes," Tim answered calmly, "he has money which an uncle left him. It was very kind of Uncle John to ask me here, but I wish he was more like father," he concluded with a regretful sigh.
"You are to have tea with us," announced Bob, as they came within sight of home. "Mother said I was to bring you in. You'll come, won't you?"
"But I had tea with you yesterday," demurred Tim, his face flushing with pleasure, "I seem to be half my time in your house now."
Nevertheless he was easily persuaded to enter the Glanvilles' door instead of his uncle's. Kitty met the two boys in the hall, curious to ascertain where they had spent the afternoon; she herself had been shopping with her mother. Bob explained where they had been, and told her that Tim was acquainted with the vendor of rat poison who attended the weekly market, and that she was to be taken to see the old man's collection of animals and birds one Saturday afternoon "if she was a good girl, and behaved herself."
"If I behave myself, indeed!" she cried, with a toss of her fair head. "I dare say he would show them to me if I went alone."
"Mother wouldn't like you to do that," returned Bob, "for he lives in a very poor part of the town, in a back street."
The children were obliged to content themselves in the house after tea, for a drizzling rain came on; they managed to enjoy themselves, however, and at eight o'clock Tim went home.
Half an hour later, when Kitty ran upstairs to tidy herself before supper, she opened her bedroom window—her room was at the back of the house—and leaned out to ascertain if it still rained. It was dry now, and the moon, a silver crescent, was shining between the clouds. The little girl was about to draw in her head when a faint movement below caused her to pause and listen attentively. Some one was close to the back door, apparently leaning into the scullery window, which had been left open.
"Why, it's a boy!" thought Kitty; "I wonder what he can be doing here? Perhaps it's Bob. No, Bob's in the dining-room. Why, goodness, I believe it's Tim! And yet, I suppose it cannot be, for he went home ages ago."
At that instant the figure began to move stealthily away, carrying something which looked, Kitty thought, like a basket. Fascinated, she watched it as it cautiously hurried round the side of the house; then, rushing downstairs, she passed like a whirlwind through the kitchen and into the scullery beyond.
Yes, the idea which had flashed upon her had been right—it was the unclaimed basket which had gone, and that horrid, cheeky boy next door, she felt certain, was the thief.
Full of indignation at his daring and dishonesty, she dashed into the dining-room to her parents and Bob, and amazed them by a panting and excited account of the discovery she had made.
CHAPTER VII.
KITTY'S ACCIDENT.
KITTY'S statement that Tim Shuttleworth had stolen the covered basket was received with incredulity by the family generally; but she led the way to the scullery, and pointed triumphantly to the empty peg behind the door as witness to the proof of her tale.
"There!" she cried. "See for yourselves! What do you think now?"
"That the basket has certainly been taken," her father rejoined. "But calm yourself, Kitty, and don't jump to a conclusion which may be quite wrong. You say you saw a boy reaching into the scullery window, and afterwards carry away a basket. Are you sure it was Tim? May it not have been another boy of about his height and size? Moonlight is very deceptive, remember."
In her own mind the little girl was confident that it had been Tim whom she had seen, though she had caught no glimpse of his face.
But whilst she momentarily hesitated over her reply, Bob exclaimed impatiently: "Of course she's not sure; she's made a mistake, I'm positive of it! Tim Shuttleworth wouldn't steal the basket! Why should he? What good would it be to him? Depend upon it the rabbit was brought the other evening by the same boy who fetched the basket to-night; he merely helped himself to his own property, and, being afraid of Snip, did it as quietly as possible."
"But how could he tell the basket was behind the scullery door, Master Bob?" asked Cook, dubiously.
"Perhaps he's an errand-boy who comes to the house, and noticed it there," suggested Mary.
"Very likely," agreed Mrs. Glanville; "but if so, he might have asked for it in a proper manner instead of helping himself to it after dark. I wish, Kitty dear," she continued, addressing her little daughter with a note of reproach in her voice, "you would not be so ready to think evil of Tim Shuttleworth. He strikes me as a particularly nice boy, certainly not one who would do a dishonest action. Depend upon it, you have made a mistake."
"I don't believe I have," declared Kitty. "I didn't see his face, but I am sure—that is, almost sure—it was Tim."
"Absurd!" Bob cried. "What will you accuse him of doing next, I wonder? First you thought he killed your rabbit, and now you believe him to a thief. You're utterly silly."
"I'm not," retorted Kitty, looking deeply mortified and vexed that she could get no one to credit the charge she had brought against the boy next door. "I think he's a horrid boy," she declared hotly, "and I believe he'd do anything—so there! I shall tell him the next time I see him that I was watching him to-night, and hear what he has to say."
"You will do nothing of the kind, Kitty," her father admonished her; "for that would be tantamount to accusing him of having stolen the basket. I forbid you to mention the matter to him; it would naturally make him feel most uncomfortable if you did. We have not known the boy many days, it is true, but quite long enough to know that he is not a thief."
"Yes, indeed, father," agreed Bob. "I believe he's the sort of boy who wouldn't do anything dishonourable or mean for the world. Since I've known him I've liked him—though I admit before that I'd rather taken sides against him. I suppose Kitty, you've no objection to my changing my mind?"
Kitty made no response, but her eyes flashed resentfully at her brother, and she was conscious of a jealous feeling against Tim which did not soften her heart towards him. She had not calculated that Bob would become so friendly with the enemy next door.
"I don't see why you need persist in thinking of Shuttleworth so suspiciously," Bob proceeded. "I'm sure he's as nice as possible to you now; and he told me only yesterday how sorry he was that he spoke to us so rudely over the wall that day Snip ruined his garden; but he thought we had made Snip do it on purpose, so it was no wonder he was mad."
"Oh, you may try to make excuses for him now," Kitty said, scornfully; "but I don't forget all he said and how he looked (ugh! he is an ugly boy!); and I believe he meant every word he spoke."
"I dare say he did at the time," admitted Bob; "but I'm sure he didn't afterwards."
"Come, children, don't wrangle," said their mother. "I am sure, Kitty, when you were playing with your brother and Tim this evening you all seemed the best of friends. Come and have supper, and don't trouble about the basket. It's gone, and I've no doubt the rightful owner has it. I am glad Snip did not frighten him to-night."
"Snip was in the dining-room," said Bob. "By the way, Kitty, had you not better see that your rabbit is all right? Perhaps your enemy next door has stolen Fluffy too."
Although quite aware that her brother was laughing at her, Kitty took his advice, and assured herself that her pet was safe before she joined the others at supper, during which meal she was unusually silent and preoccupied, by no means convinced that she had mistaken another boy for Tim. And, as a matter of fact, the little girl was quite right in her belief that Tim had taken the covered basket; for, after returning to his uncle's house, he had waited until the rain had ceased, and then had quietly gone out again and stolen round to the Glanvilles' back door and purloined the basket through the scullery window. He had been unable to think of any better way of regaining Deborah's property; and having placed it on the shelf inside the tool-house door, he went to bed with an easy mind, little guessing that Kitty had seen and recognised him.
On Monday Bob went to school at nine o'clock. It was a beautiful morning in the first week in May; the air was fragrant with the scent of lilac and hawthorn, and the big apple tree at the bottom of the Glanvilles' garden was one mass of bloom.
Kitty, as soon as she had seen her brother depart and had attended to the needs of Fluffy, strolled down to the apple tree, and perched herself on her favourite branch in the midst of a mass of blossoms. She wondered what Tim would do now Bob had gone to school, and if he would be very dull; she had been congratulating herself upon the fact that she had three days more holiday than her brother, but she scarcely knew how she would pass the time without a companion. By-and-by, when Tim appeared in Mr. Shuttleworth's garden, her face brightened, and she half hoped he would speak to her, so that she was rather pleased than otherwise when he came closer and suddenly glanced up. He caught sight of her immediately, and a friendly smile crossed his countenance.
"Hullo!" he cried by way of greeting. "I say you're in a regular nest of flowers," he proceeded. "Even Uncle John noticed that tree this morning—he said he had never seen it so full of bloom before. You will have a fine crop of apples later on."
"Yes, if all's well," Kitty responded; "and they are such nice apples—Blenheim oranges; we gather them early in October, and hoard them—they don't get properly ripe till nearly Christmas."
"Then I shan't taste them," said Tim. "What a pity!" He was looking up at Kitty with rather a wistful expression on his face, wishing she would invite him to join her in the tree; but as that was evidently not her intention, he fetched the ladder and perched himself on the wall close by. "Do you remember the first time I looked at you and Bob over the wall?" he asked.
"Yes," nodded Kitty.
"I was hoping you would speak to me, and you didn't."
"We thought it rather a cheek of you to stare at us," she informed him.
"I didn't mean it for cheek," he replied. "Really, I didn't."
"You made an ugly face at Bob; you couldn't call that good manners."
"I did it because he called Snip away; that wasn't very nice of him, was it?"
"No-o-o," she admitted, for that had been her opinion at the time. "Bob's gone to school," she observed presently.
"I know; I saw him start. I shall miss him. But your father says I may join him in his walks: isn't that kind of him? And he's going to take me fishing; I haven't a rod, but Bob says I can use his. Do you get a whole holiday on Saturday, like Bob?"
"Oh, yes."
"Then we must make the most of Saturdays," said Tim, regarding the little girl with a smile. "Are there many girls at your school?" he inquired.
"About twenty—none over twelve years old, and some are as young as five. There's a kindergarten class."
Tim nodded. He had heard Bob speak of the school Kitty attended somewhat disparagingly, as "a school for kids."
"I'm ten years old, you know," she proceeded to explain, "and I've been at school since I was six."
"Then I suppose you're the head in class by this time?" he suggested.
"No," Kitty answered sharply, with a slight show of confusion in her manner; for, truth to tell, she was rather a dunce. Meeting the glance of Tim's eyes, she saw they were twinkling humorously. "I suppose Bob's been telling tales of me, saying that I'm at the bottom of the third class?" she cried, with sudden wrath.
"No, no; indeed he hasn't," he assured her. "Don't be cross! I expect you're like me, and don't care for lessons much."
She nodded, mollified at once. After that there was silence for some minutes. Tim kicked his heels against the wall and whistled light-heartedly whilst Kitty longed to speak to him of the covered basket; but remembering what her father had said in reference to the suggestion she had made of doing so, she kept silent upon the subject.
"Are any of the seeds you planted in your garden coming up?" she asked by-and-by.
"Oh, yes, I think so," he answered. "There's something springing—mignonette, I expect; I sowed a lot of that. How do you manage to keep Snip off your flower-beds? I see he doesn't do any damage in your garden."
"No, because he knows it's ours; and that's why he doesn't interfere with Fluffy. If he saw a rabbit anywhere else he'd kill it in an instant. Snip's very sharp; he always was, even as a tiny puppy. I believe he knows all we say to him; and see how excited he gets if we ask him if he's going walking. I'm afraid he has rather a dull time when we're at school, though father takes him out in the afternoons; but he likes going with Bob and me better than with father, because we let him do as he likes," Kitty confessed ingenuously.
Tim laughed. "Do you know that your mother has asked me to go to the grammar school sports with her next week?" he asked. "Yes, she has," he continued, as the little girl shook her head. "Isn't it jolly and thoughtful of her? Bob said he could get a card of invitation for Uncle John; but sports aren't in his line, he says; and I'm glad they're not, for I'd far rather go with Mrs. Glanville. I suppose you'll be there too, won't you?"
"Oh, yes, and father. You know Bob's going in for several races besides the high jump. I wouldn't miss the sports for anything. Oh, I must go in, for there's mother at the back door beckoning to me. I expect she wants to send me on an errand," and Kitty began to descend the apple tree as she spoke.
"Take care!" cried Tim warningly, as the little girl, eager to impress him with her agility, swung herself somewhat recklessly from one branch to another.
"All right," she replied. "I shan't fall. I could climb this tree when I was six years old."
The words were scarcely out of her mouth when her foot slipped, and her whole weight was thrown upon the slight bough to which she was clinging. A moment later the bough snapped off, and Kitty, with a terrified shriek, fell heavily to the ground.
CHAPTER VIII.
KITTY IS MYSTIFIED.
TIM'S first idea on witnessing Kitty's accident was that she had killed herself; but before he had time to move the ladder from one side of the wall to the other and descend to her assistance, which he set about doing at once, she had struggled into a sitting posture, and as he reached her side she was trying to get up. That, however, she found she could not do, for she had injured her right foot in her fall; and her face was colourless and drawn with pain, and her blue eyes full of frightened tears as she raised them to Tim's scared countenance.
"Oh, Kitty, are you hurt much?" he inquired anxiously, extending a hand to help her to rise.
"Don't touch me," she almost shrieked. "I believe I'm bruised all over, and my foot is hurting me dreadfully—I think all the bones in it are broken! Oh, dear, what shall I do? Please fetch father—fetch him at once!" And the little girl burst into a storm of tears and sobs.
Tim, pale as a sheet himself, rushed to the house to do Kitty's bidding; and a few minutes later he returned, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Glanville and the two servants. Mr. Glanville carried his little daughter indoors, and laid her on the sofa in the dining-room; then he suggested sending for a doctor.
"Yes," assented his wife, who was carefully withdrawing the shoe from poor Kitty's injured foot. "There, dear, it's off," she said, soothingly, as Kitty moaned with pain.
"Let me go," said Tim, who was hovering about the doorway, deeply concerned. "Ah! Do let me go; I'll run all the way."
"There's no need for such hurry as that—" said Mr. Glanville "at least, I think not. But if you will go and ask Dr. Richards to come round and see Kitty, I shall be very glad. I dare say you'll catch him before he starts on his morning round. You know where he lives?"
"Oh, yes—just round the corner," Tim replied. "Bob pointed out the house to me, and said your doctor lived there. I'll be back in a jiffy."
In spite of what Mr. Glanville had said Tim ran all the way, for he thought most seriously of Kitty's condition; and, as it happened, it was fortunate he did, for Dr. Richards was on the point of stepping into his gig when the little boy rushed up to him—a moment later he would have been gone.
"Oh, please," panted Tim excitedly, "will you go to Mr. Glanville's first of all? There's been a dreadful accident. Kitty's fallen from a tree, and is so injured! She's bruised all over, and has broken every bone in her right foot. I'm afraid she's very bad."
"I'll go and see her at once," the doctor replied, not looking nearly so impressed as Tim had expected he would; and, getting into his gig, he drove away.
The little boy retraced his footsteps soberly, and found the doctor's gig outside the Glanvilles' house on his return. He went round to the back of the house and discussed Kitty's accident with Cook in the kitchen; and when he heard Mary opening the front door for the doctor to depart, he begged Cook to go and ascertain what was the medical opinion of the patient, which she was very willing to do.
"She's more frightened than hurt, Master Tim," Cook told him reassuringly, coming back after a short absence from the kitchen. "Dr. Richards has bandaged her sprained foot, and he says she must be kept quiet; but there's no need to be alarmed about her—she'll soon be all right again."
"Oh, how glad I am to hear that!" cried Tim thankfully; "I quite thought she had killed herself!" he added, with a shudder.
"Young bones fall light," remarked Cook. "I hope this will be a lesson to Miss Kitty not to be so hoydenish in future; why she hasn't fallen from that apple tree before I really don't know."
Meanwhile, Kitty, according to the doctor's order, was being put to bed by her mother and Mary. She was bruised and shaken, and her foot was giving her a great deal of pain, so that altogether she was feeling very low-spirited and unwell.
Bob, on his return from school at mid-day, was greatly concerned on hearing of his sister's accident; but she would not tell him how it had happened. Accordingly, he sought Tim, and learnt from him that the little girl had been climbing down from the tree very carelessly, when she lost her footing, and thus brought about the mishap.
"I suppose she was showing off because you were watching her," observed Bob, jumping at once to the right conclusion.
"Yes," nodded Tim, "that was it; but please don't tell her I said so," he added hastily.
"All right," agreed Bob, "I won't. Poor Kitty, she'll be tied by the leg for a bit, I suppose. I wonder if she'll be well enough to come to the sports?"
That was the thought which troubled Kitty herself. Dr. Richards kept her in bed only two days, after which she lay on the sofa in the dining-room. Of course there was no question of her returning to school on Thursday. She did not mind that in the least; but it worried her to think she might not be well by Saturday week, which was the day fixed for the grammar school sports. Dr. Richards would not say she would be able to go, and when questioned upon the point merely answered evasively, "Oh, we'll see."
"I suppose Bob is taking good care of Fluffy?" the little girl remarked to her mother one morning after she was comfortably settled on the sofa, with Snip on the rug at her feet.
"Oh, Tim's seeing to Fluffy," Mrs. Glanville replied. "He cleans out the hutch every day, I believe. He offered to take charge of your pet, and we were glad he could do so; for, you know, Bob has little spare time, what with his lessons and practising for the sports."
"It's very kind of Tim," admitted Kitty, rather grudgingly.
"Tim is kind," said Mrs. Glanville, in a tone of decision; "and he has been greatly concerned about you, my dear; he continually calls to know how you are. I hear his voice at the door now. Wouldn't you like to see him?"
"Yes, I think I should," Kitty answered. "It was very good of him to fetch Dr. Richards so quickly the other morning—I thought so at the time. Please, mother, ask him to come in."
So Tim came in, his plain, freckled face very bright, and told Kitty how very glad he was she was better, and reported that Fluffy was doing well under his care. Kitty thanked him for looking after her pet; and then, as she expressed a desire to see Fluffy, Tim fetched the rabbit, and she kissed its pink nose and fondled it, until Snip, watching her from the corners of his eyes, began to show symptoms of jealousy, and it was deemed advisable to restore Fluffy to the hutch.
Tim's visit did much to cheer Kitty, and she asked him to come again, which he accordingly did very willingly. She began to think that she had been mistaken in believing it had been he who had stolen the covered basket; but she could not entirely rid her mind of the suspicion that he had had something to do with the mysterious death of the first rabbit, though she would gladly have done so.
And Tim, when he met the gaze of Kitty's honest blue eyes, was often conscience-stricken, remembering how she had asked him point blank if he had overturned the box which had held her rabbit, and he had answered, "No, certainly not." What would be her opinion of him if she ever found out his untruthfulness? He was beginning to think less of the impetuous act which he had done in his temper than of the denial he had uttered; and now he knew the Glanvilles, he saw that they would more easily understand and overlook the revengeful deed than the deliberate falsehood, for both Kitty and Bob were particularly honourable children. How difficult it would be to make them believe that he did not tell stories as a rule, but that he had succumbed to temptation because he had been lonely and desired their friendship, which he had feared he would never gain if he confessed the truth.
It was nearly a week before Kitty was fit to stand on her injured foot again, and then she was only able to limp about—"a lame duck," her brother called her. Nevertheless, she declared her intention of attending the grammar school sports. And, much to her joy, Dr. Richards gave it as his opinion that it would do her no harm to go, if she was driven to the ground where the sports were to be held, and sat down as much as she could whilst she was there. Accordingly, when the long-looked-forward-to afternoon arrived, she drove off in a cab with her mother and father and Tim Shuttleworth in the best of possible spirits.
The ground belonging to the grammar school was a short distance out of the town. And as the cab drew up at the entrance gate, Bob, wearing his colours—pale blue and silver, which his sister had chosen—left the group of boys with whom he had been chatting, and ran up to it.
"You'd better come and sit on one of the seats near the hedge, Kitty," he said, as he assisted the little girl to alight. "They're going to run off the heats first of all, and you'll have a good sight from there. See, there's an empty seat with room for all of you; and there's a board for you to put your feet upon, so you can't possibly catch cold."
Bob led the way with his sister, and the others followed. It was a beautiful May afternoon, warm and sunshiny, and there were a lot of visitors present, for the grammar school at B— numbered many pupils, who had brought their relations and friends to witness the sports. By-and-by the town band arrived to play selections of music between the various performances.
"Have you seen Tom Hatch?" inquired Kitty of her brother.
"No; but one of the masters told me he was here with his people," Bob replied. "I expect I shall run against him presently. Shall I tell him you want to speak to him, Kitty?"
"Yes, do," she said, eagerly.
At that moment her brother was called away, and she turned to Tim, who was seated next to her, and entered into conversation with him. He had not heard what she and her brother had been saying, for he had been talking to Mrs. Glanville, who was on his other side. Very shortly after that the sports commenced, and Kitty had no eyes but for those engaged in them, all of whom she knew by sight, if not to speak to.
Much to his sister's delight, Bob distinguished himself on several occasions that afternoon, more especially in the high jump, in which he easily beat the other competitors of his age.
"He will get the first prize," Kitty whispered to Tim, a thrill of intense gratification in her voice. "I'm so glad."
"So am I," returned Tim heartily, and he rose and went with Mr. Glanville to offer Bob his congratulations.
"Your father is going to get us some tea presently," remarked Mrs. Glanville to her little daughter. "It will be nicer to have it here than in the refreshment tent."
"Yes," agreed Kitty. "Oh, mother, there's Tom Hatch!" she cried a moment later, as a boy of about Bob's age passed the seat, and took off his cap to them. "Oh, Tom, stop a minute!"
There was nothing for Tom to do but to come back and shake hands with Mrs. Glanville and Kitty. He was a shy-looking boy, and his manner was rather embarrassed.
"I wanted to see you to speak to you about that rabbit—" Kitty was commencing, when he interrupted her hastily.
"Oh, yes!" he exclaimed, growing very red. "I was so sorry I couldn't let you have it after all. The truth is, I—I sold it, and made a good price of it. I ought to have let you know, of course; but I was so rushed for time, and—I hope you didn't mind?"
"But you did send the rabbit!" said Kitty, looking bewildered. "At least, I suppose it was you who sent it, for I found a dear little rabbit had been put in my hutch, and as you had told Bob you meant to give me one I guessed it had come from you."
"Yes, yes, I did tell him you should have one," Tom admitted. "But I—well, I broke my word, I'm afraid. In fact," the boy added in greater confusion than before, "I—I acted awfully shabbily about it."
"Then you didn't send the rabbit?" the little girl gasped. "Oh, please understand I'm not a bit angry, but—" her eyes opening in a wide stare of incredulity, "I should like to be quite certain."
Tom shook his head. "No," he said emphatically, "I give you my word I didn't send it. Somebody else must have done it as a surprise. At any rate, the rabbit wasn't mine."
CHAPTER IX.
GENERAL BEWILDERMENT.
WHEN Mr. Glanville returned to his wife and little daughter, as he did ten minutes after he had left them, bearing a tray which held their tea, Kitty inquired eagerly where her brother was, and received the reply that, at the present moment, he was engaged in eating sponge-cakes and ices in the refreshment tent, in company with Tim Shuttleworth.
"You don't want him, do you, my dear?" asked Mr. Glanville, noticing she was looking excited, and hoping he and her mother had not acted unwisely in bringing her to the sports.
"No," Kitty responded; "but I have seen Tom Hatch. And, oh, father, what do you think? He never sent me that rabbit he told Bob he was going to give me, after all! And now I can't imagine where Fluffy came from. You may well look surprised. I consider Tom served me very shabbily. He ought not to have made a promise and then have broken it."
"I could not help pitying him when Kitty spoke to him about the rabbit," Mrs. Glanville said, smiling at the remembrance of the boy's embarrassed countenance. "It must have been very awkward for him."
"Very," agreed Mr. Glanville. "I don't wonder that you are astonished, Kitty; I confess I am."
"And I was so grateful to Tom!" exclaimed Kitty. "I thought he had been so very kind. Dear me, how puzzled I do feel!"
"The mystery now is, who made you a present of your rabbit?" Mr. Glanville said. "But, come, my dear, drink your tea, and eat something. Don't let this surprise spoil your appetite."
Kitty did not, but enjoyed her tea immensely. The junior high jump had been the last item on the programme, and after a short interval, during which most of the visitors sought the refreshment tent, it was followed by the distribution of the prizes, which were given away by the head master's wife.
It was a proud moment for Kitty when she saw her brother presented with the cup he had won for the high jump, and a prouder still when he made his way through the crowd of spectators, who cheered him heartily. He placed his prize into her hands, with the request that she would take it home for him.
"I've introduced Shuttleworth to Jack Richards, and Jack's asked us both to go back to his house to high tea with a lot of other fellows, so we shan't be going home with you," he explained. "I've father's permission to go, and he's promised to tell Mr. Shuttleworth, Tim's with me, so that will be all right."
"Oh, yes," answered Kitty, in rather a disappointed tone, for she was longing for a talk with her brother, to tell him about her interview with Tom Hatch, as well as to discuss the events of the afternoon.
"I'm glad you're having a good time, Bob," she continued more brightly, "and I'm so very proud you've won this beautiful prize."
"So am I," said Mrs. Glanville. "It is a very handsome cup, and it shall have a prominent place on the sideboard, I promise you. Go back to your friends, my boy; your father will see to us."
As soon as the prize-giving was over, Mr. and Mrs. Glanville and Kitty drove home. Mr. Shuttleworth, when informed that his nephew would not return till later, as he was going to take tea with Bob and several other Grammar School boys at Dr. Richards's, was quite satisfied, and expressed himself very pleased at Tim's having increased his number of acquaintances in the place.
Kitty, who was very tired after the excitement of the afternoon, went to bed somewhat early. But she knew she would not be able to sleep until she had seen her brother, and desired that the moment he came home he might be sent upstairs. When at last he returned, it was nearly nine o'clock, and Kitty had grown impatient.
"Tired, old girl?" he asked, as he entered his sister's room, and having turned up the gas, sat down on the edge of the bed. "We've had such a splendid time," continued he, without waiting for a reply. "Mrs. Richards had got us a first-rate tea—ham and pickles, and jams and cake; and the doctor was there, and was ever so jolly. Jack Richards has taken quite a fancy to Tim; they're the same age—that is, Jack was eleven last October, and Tim was eleven in January; and—"
"Oh, Bob, let me tell you about Tom Hatch," interposed Kitty. "I hadn't the chance of speaking to you about him this afternoon. Do you know he never sent me that rabbit he told you he'd give me? He sold it instead. It was very mean of him, wasn't it? Did you ever hear of anything meaner? I don't think I ever did, and father says the same. It makes me so cross to remember how kind I've been thinking him, and how grateful I've felt. Fancy promising to make a present and then not doing it! I can't imagine how anyone can behave like that!"
"But—but—he didn't send the rabbit, you say?" questioned Bob, every whit as astonished as Kitty and his parents had been a short while previously. "Then who did send it? What about Fluffy?"
"Ah! that's what I want to know!" exclaimed Kitty. "Isn't it puzzling? Some one must have put Fluffy in the hutch; but who?"
"Well, I am amazed, simply amazed!" declared Bob. "I should think it is puzzling! Of course I thought Hatch had sent the rabbit, as he had told me about it. I didn't speak of it till we found it in the hutch, because I knew Hatch's word wasn't to be relied on. What a muddle the whole affair is!"
"Yes," agreed Kitty. "Mother and father say the same. I've been lying here thinking of it, and the more I think the more bewildered I get. If only Fluffy could speak!"
"Or Snip," said Bob, with a laugh. "He knows as much as any one, for I expect he saw the person who brought the rabbit. Don't you remember what a row he kicked up?"
"Yes, of course, Bob," said Kitty, dropping her voice to a solemn whisper and speaking hesitatingly. "You don't think that—that it could have been Tim Shuttleworth, do you?"
"Why, no, Kitty. What could have put such an idea into your head? It's not in the least likely. If Tim had wanted to make you a present, he needn't have done it in that way."
"I suppose it's an absurd idea; but—but we hardly knew Tim then—"
"Which makes it all the more unlikely that he would think of giving you a rabbit," Bob interposed decidedly.
"You know I thought it was he who took the covered basket from behind the scullery door," the little girl reminded her brother, after a brief silence, during which they had both been pondering deeply.
"So you did. I had forgotten that for the minute." Bob paused, and after a little further reflection continued gravely, "I tell you what, we won't say a word to Tim about Tom Hatch's not having sent the rabbit; but I'll make a few inquiries and try to find out where Fluffy came from. I dare say I shall get at the truth. Lots of the Grammar School boys keep rabbits, and they'll be sure to know who keeps Angoras."
"I believe Fluffy is pure-bred," observed Kitty complacently. "The butcher's boy said so, and I expect he knows."
"I dare say. Perhaps it was foolish of me to take it for granted that Tom Hatch had kept his word; but when I saw the rabbit I never dreamt of suspecting it came from anyone else. Not a word to Tim, mind."
"Oh, no, and we must tell mother and father not to mention the matter to him! Oh, Bob, if it should have been Tim—"
"Well, what then?"
"I—haven't been always nice to him," the little girl admitted, "and I've thought that he was spiteful and untruthful. Suppose I should have been quite wrong? He has been very kind to me since I fell off the apple tree—often I should have been dreadfully dull if he hadn't come in and talked to me. And if I find out that he gave me my dear Fluffy, I shall feel so bad about having been against him."
"Oh, well, I wouldn't worry about that," was the careless response. "You know I took against him at first, but I soon found out he was a jolly nice fellow, and he's very generous. His uncle tipped him half-a-crown before he started for the sports this afternoon, and he stood Richards and me sponge-cakes and ices—fourpenny ices, too. He would do it."
Kitty sighed. Hearing this made her more than ever inclined to believe that she had greatly misjudged the boy next door.
Meanwhile, Tim was being questioned by Mr. Shuttleworth as to how he had spent the afternoon and evening; and, finding his uncle appeared really interested in his doings, he gave him a glowing account of the athletic sports, which told how much he had enjoyed them.
"I should like you to see Bob Glanville's cup which he won for the high jump, Uncle John," he said. "I am sure he would be pleased to show it to you. Don't you think his people must be very proud of him?"
"I dare say they are," Mr. Shuttleworth replied. "He is a fine, handsome boy. So the girl has quite recovered from the results of her accident?"
"Oh, yes; she went with us this afternoon, you know. She's still a bit lame, but she's nearly all right; and she's going back to school on Monday—she isn't keen to go, but Mrs. Glanville says, as she was well enough to go to the sports, she must be well enough to go to school. Bob introduced me to a lot of boys, uncle, but I think I like Jack Richards the best. Wasn't it jolly of him to ask me to his house to tea? His father said he might. Do you know Dr. Richards, uncle?"
"Merely by sight. I am thankful to say I have never needed his professional services. But I have heard him well spoken of as a clever doctor, and I believe he is very popular in the town. How would you like to be a pupil at the B— Grammar School, Tim?"
"As a boarder, do you mean, Uncle John? Father is always talking of sending me to boarding-school, but I don't believe he can afford it. How I wish he could send me to the Grammar School here!"
"You would like that?"
"Rather! But it's so far away from home—my journey money to and from for the holidays would be so much, wouldn't it?"
"I think B— suits you," Mr. Shuttleworth observed, regarding his nephew thoughtfully. "You are looking much better than when you arrived."
"And I am feeling better," Tim rejoined brightly. "I used to get so shaky sometimes, but now I never do."
Mr. Shuttleworth nodded, well pleased. "Tim," he began seriously by-and-by, "I've been considering that I do not altogether like your receiving so much hospitality from our neighbours next door without your making some return."
"Oh, Uncle John!" cried Tim, fearing he was going to be told that he must not continue to run in and out of the Glanvilles' home.
"What do you say to asking the Glanville children to spend next Saturday afternoon with you here?" suggested Mr. Shuttleworth. "Deborah would do her best to get you a nice tea, I'm certain."
"Oh!" Tim's tone had changed to one of surprise and pleasure, whilst his face was one broad beam of delight. "I am sure Kitty and Bob will be very pleased to come; Kitty was saying the other day she had never seen the inside of your house."
CHAPTER X.
SNIP INTRUDES.
"I'VE accepted an invitation for you, children," Mrs. Glanville said to Kitty and Bob during the dinner hour on the Monday following the athletic sports. "Tim came in this morning and asked my permission for you to take tea with him next Saturday afternoon."
"How nice!" exclaimed Kitty. "Of course, his uncle told him to ask us, mother?"
"Yes," Mrs. Glanville assented. "He brought a polite message from Mr. Shuttleworth."
"I rather wanted to play cricket on Saturday afternoon," said Bob, who was not so elated at the prospect of spending an hour or so next door as his sister. "But I suppose if you accepted the invitation, mother, we must go."
"Of course we must go," interposed Kitty. "Oh, please Bob, don't try to back out of going."
"I won't," Bob answered, laughing. "Come outdoors, Kitty; I've something to say to you privately," he added in a lower tone.
"I say, Kitty," Bob commenced, when the garden was reached, "do you know I'm beginning to think Fluffy may have come from Tim Shuttleworth, after all, and I'll tell you why I think so. When I got home from school half an hour ago, I thought I'd come in by the back door, and there, standing watching your rabbit, was the butcher boy—he delivers meat at Mr. Shuttleworth's too, it seems."
"Yes, he's been with Mudge, the butcher, for a long while," remarked Kitty. "His name's Dick Dart, and his mother's a widow who takes in washing—I've heard him tell cook so. Last year he received nearly five pounds in Christmas-boxes, and he's going to save his money to start for himself."
"Oh, never mind that," broke in Bob, who was not interested in the ambitions of the butcher boy, like his sister, whose nature it was to concern herself in other people's business. "But listen to me. There was the fellow watching your rabbit, as I said before."
"'That rabbit is getting as fat as butter,' he said, 'and its coat improves every day. Old Dottin would hardly know it.' I stared at that. 'Isn't it one of old Jacob Dottin's?' he went on, seeing, I suppose, that I was very surprised. 'I don't know,' I answered, 'someone made a present of it to my sister.' He laughed and winked. 'I understand,' he said, it's a secret who that someone is, but I expect it's the same person I recommended to go to old Dottin when he asked me if I knew anyone who had rabbits to sell.' 'Who was that?' I inquired. He's an aggravating boy, Kitty, he wouldn't tell me; but putting two and two together I think he may have meant Tim Shuttleworth, for Tim knows Jacob Dottin."
"Why, of course he does!" cried Kitty, excitedly. "He promised to take us to see the old man's animals and birds; we must remind him of that—no, we won't, though! I'll tell you what, Bob, you and I will go and see Jacob Dottin without Tim, and find out if he ever sold Tim a rabbit. I feel I shall never rest till I know, for certain, where Fluffy came from. If we learnt our lessons in the dinner hour to-morrow, couldn't we go to the old man's shop in the evening? I don't suppose he closes it very early."
It was easy for Kitty and Boy to slip off quietly the following evening, for Tim did not seek their society, believing they would be engaged in the preparation of their lessons for the next day, and Mr. and Mrs. Glanville were out, having gone to call on some friends. But one pair of sharp eyes kept watch on their movements, and they had not gone far from home before they became aware that Snip was following. The little dog appeared to know instinctively that they did not wish him to accompany them, for he persistently lurked behind only just keeping his mistress and master in sight.
When Kitty and Bob looked behind, he dawdled, pretending not to see them, as though he was taking a walk on his own account; but the minute they turned their heads, he hastened after them again. When Jacob Dottin's shop was reached Snip was just turning the corner of the street. So Bob opened the shop door quickly, and, pushing his sister in before him, entered himself, and shut the door behind him.
"What can I do for the pretty little lady?" Mr. Dottin proceeded to inquire amiably. "Sell her a singing bird, eh? I've a wonderful collection of canaries, varying in price from five to fifteen shillings. There's one now—a young one—singing as though he'd split his throat. Too noisy? Well, well, that's a matter of taste, of course. There's another whose song is not quite so shrill."
"I don't want to buy a canary, thank you." Kitty returned politely.
"Then what do you think of these love-birds, missie? You shall have the pair cheap."
"The fact is we don't want to buy anything to-night," said Bob frankly. "But we wish to ask you a few questions, if you'll be so good as to answer them."
"Indeed?" The old man's smiling countenance changed somewhat. "And suppose I decline to answer your questions, what then?" he inquired.
"Then we shall be as wise as we are now, no wiser," Bob said, with a laugh. "Oh, I say, Kitty, look at those white rabbits," he cried, turning to his sister, who followed the direction of his pointing finger. "They're just like your Fluffy."
"Yes," agreed Kitty, "so they are. But their coats are not so well kept as Fluffy's is now. I suppose you haven't time to comb them?" she questioned of Mr. Dottin.
"They're Angoras," he remarked. "No, missie, I haven't time to comb them. Have you a fancy for rabbits?"
"I love them," the little girl declared. "Not to eat, I don't mean that, but as pets, you know. I've a sweet little white rabbit called Fluffy, and it's exactly like those of yours."
"What we want to know is whether you sold a young Angora rabbit to a boy called Tim Shuttleworth," broke in Bob, coming abruptly to the real business of their visit.
"Tim Shuttleworth?" repeated Mr. Dottin. "I never, as far as I can remember, heard that name before!"
"You might not know the name, but you might know the boy," said Bob eagerly. "A boy about my height, but thinner, and about my age, with red hair, a turn up nose, a wide mouth, and a freckled face."
"A very plain boy, perhaps you'd call him ugly," supplemented Kitty.
A gleam of comprehension flitted across the old man's countenance, but it passed instantly, and his answer was evasive and disappointing. "I have several customers answering to the description you have given me of—your friend, is he?" he said, gravely. "Plain people are more plentiful than handsome ones, you know. When folks do business with me I don't take much notice of their looks. Why are you so anxious to discover if this Tim Shuttleworth has purchased a rabbit from me? Come now, tell me that."
The children were quite willing to do so, and Kitty commenced a rambling account of all that had led to their visit, beginning with the sudden demise of her first rabbit, and going on to explain the mysterious advent of Fluffy; but before she had brought her story to an end, the shop door opened and a customer came in with a request to be supplied with a particular mixture of bird seed, for which Mr. Dottin was, as a ticket in the window informed passers-by, the agent. Neither Kitty nor Bob noticed that Snip entered close on the heels of the customer, and the little dog, fearful that he would be seen and summarily ejected, stole silently into a corner, and hid behind a box.
All would have gone well if Snip had remained in his corner. But as soon as the customer had gone and Mr. Dottin again turned his attention to the children, Snip crept from behind the box, and sniffing the ground as he went, with a puzzled expression on his sharp little face, as though his sensitive nostrils had scented a smell he did not understand, as indeed was the case, he stealthily passed into the parlour beyond.
A few minutes later a series of barks—sharp and aggressive—broke upon the ears of the trio in the shop; and Kitty, who was concluding her tale, stopped suddenly, and exchanged a dismayed glance with her brother.
"That's our dog," Bob explained to Mr. Dottin. "I know his voice. We shut him out, but—"
The boy broke off. He was given no chance of finishing his sentence; for at that instant the air was rent by a great disturbance—blood-curdling yells, snaps, snarls, and guttural growls which sounded, as Kitty afterwards declared, worse than the most awful dog-fight she had ever heard. Then followed such piteous howls from Snip that the little girl wrung her hands in terror, and Mr. Dottin, seizing a large stick, rushed into the parlour in front of Bob, whose face was as white as death.
"Oh, Snip! He's been caught by something!" shrieked the boy. "Oh!" starting back. "How terrible! What a brute!"
"What is it? What is it?" cried Kitty, shocked beyond measure. "Oh, Snip, poor Snip! He's being killed, Bob! I can see it by your face!"
CHAPTER XI.
KITTY ASKS FORGIVENESS OF TIM.
IT appeared ages to Kitty before the horrifying noise in the parlour ceased; but, in reality, in about three minutes after old Jacob Dottin and Bob had left her, the piercing yells stopped, and silence followed save for the angry voice of the master of the establishment, who was scolding and threatening in a tone which made her tremble, so harsh was it.
"I'll break every bone in your body if you move from that corner, you Bimbo—ill-conditioned beast that you are! I'll give you something you won't forget easily!" Kitty heard him say; and then he proceeded, evidently addressing Bob: "Take that mongrel of yours away at once, do you hear, at once!"
"All right," Bob answered; and the next moment he appeared in the shop, bearing Snip, who had been badly injured, in his arms, and followed by the old man, who cautiously shut the parlour door behind him.
"Oh, is he much hurt?" gasped Kitty, shocked at the sight of the blood, which looked a great deal more than it really was, on Snip's white coat.
"He's scratched and bitten, I believe," Bob returned in a voice which trembled slightly; he was looking pale and frightened, as his sister noticed. "I wonder you keep such a savage brute about the place," he remarked unwisely to Mr. Dottin. "He would have killed our dog if you hadn't interfered and driven him off."
"Of course he would have, and he wouldn't have been to blame, either," was the retort, sharply spoken. "What business had you to bring your dog here, I should like to know? Take him away immediately, or perhaps he'll be up to some fresh mischief. He got what he deserved for interfering with Bimbo. Come, clear out, you and your sister, too. I've wasted too much time on you already."
"But, Mr. Dottin—" Bob was beginning, when, much to his amazement and indignation, he was seized roughly by the collar, dragged to the door, and sent spinning into the street.
Seeing her brother thus forcibly ejected, Kitty did not linger to be similarly treated, but hurriedly followed him, whereupon Mr. Dottin shook his fist at his late visitors, and shut the door upon them.
"Come along, Kitty," said Bob, who was choking with rage. "Let us get out of this. That's a horrible old man; I'm sorry we went to see him." And he started homewards at a great rate, still carrying Snip.
"Don't go quite so fast," pleaded Kitty, when they were out of sight of the shop. "My foot's beginning to pain me. Poor Snip, dear old boy," she continued caressingly, as her brother slackened speed, and she stroked the little dog's head. "His ears are torn, Bob, and he has a bad bite in the neck. Was it a big dog he was fighting with?"
"It wasn't a dog at all," Bob answered. "It was an awful brute of a monkey, which, I suppose Snip was foolish enough to interfere with."
"A monkey!" exclaimed Kitty in astonishment.
"Yes, a monkey nearly as big as you," her brother declared, exaggerating without any intention of doing so, for to his frightened gaze Bimbo had seemed of huge dimensions.
"Oh!" Kitty cried, immeasurably horrified. "What an escape Snip has had! Don't you think he might walk, Bob, or are his legs hurt?"
"We'll see," Bob, replied, setting the little dog down upon the ground, and patting him encouragingly.
Snip gave himself a shake. Evidently no bones were broken and his injuries were superficial, for when his mistress and master moved on he followed them, looking a most dejected object, with his tail tucked tightly between his legs, and his whole bearing spiritless and crestfallen. Kitty's foot, by this time, was growing extremely painful, and she limped as she walked, so that when home was reached she was not far from tears.
"We shall have to tell where we've been," she said, sighing, as she followed her brother into the house. "And we've done no good—I mean, we haven't found out what we wanted to know."
"We'll tackle Tim himself on Saturday about the rabbit," her brother replied. "We'll ask him point blank if it was his present; but it would have been a joke if we could have found out where it came from ourselves. I suspect old Dottin could have told us something about it if he had liked. It was most unfortunate that Snip behaved as he did. My, wasn't there a row!"
The children found their parents had not returned, so they went into the kitchen and explained what had happened to cook and Mary. Mary procured warm water and a sponge, and bathed Snip's injured ears, and bound up the wound in his neck. When the kind-hearted girl had finished her ministrations, the little dog crept into the box where he always slept under the kitchen table, and curled himself up to rest.
"I expect he feels done up, poor thing," said cook. "I'll be bound to say he'll think twice before he attacks a monkey again."
"Miss Kitty is done up, too," observed Mary. "You'd best have your supper and go to bed, miss; you oughtn't to have walked so far with that weak foot of yours."
The little girl took Mary's advice, and left her brother to relate their evening's adventures to Mr. and Mrs. Glanville, who expressed their opinion that they all ought to be thankful that poor Snip was not more seriously hurt.
"The monkey might indeed have killed him," Mr. Glanville said, "and I am not surprised that old Dottin was angry with you for taking the dog in his shop. No doubt he is as much attached to his monkey as you are to Snip. By the way, I suppose the monkey was not injured?"
"Not in the least, father," Bob replied. "Snip got much the worst of the battle."
"I think you should have told us at tea-time where you intended going this evening," Mrs. Glanville remarked. "The walk was too long for Kitty. If you really suspect that Tim Shuttleworth purchased the rabbit from old Dottin, ask the boy himself and no doubt he will tell you."
"That is what we mean to do, mother; but please don't you or father speak to him about it. Let us do it ourselves."
Mr. and Mrs. Glanville promised they would not interfere in the matter; and though Tim accompanied Mr. Glanville for a walk on the following morning, and exclaimed at the sight of Snip with his torn ears and bandaged neck, he was merely told that the dog had been fighting, and that he must ask Kitty and Bob to tell him all about it. That same day, in the evening, he found an opportunity of doing so, when, having learnt their lessons, the sister and brother strolled out into the back garden as usual.
"Hulloa, Kitty, you're quite lame again," called out Tim, who, mounted on the ladder, was looking over the partition wall. "How is that?"
"Because I walked too far last night," answered Kitty. Then she whispered to her brother, "Let us find out what we want to know now, instead of waiting till Saturday."
"All right," agreed Bob promptly.
"It was last night Snip got so badly mauled, wasn't it?" questioned Tim. "He must have had an awful fight. How did it happen? Was it a big dog he fought with? I suppose it must have been."
"No," Bob replied. "It was old Dottin's monkey—Bimbo."
"Oh!" exclaimed Tim. "I've seen that monkey, but I thought it was very quiet. What made you go to see old Dottin without me? Don't you remember I promised to take you?" There was a tinge of reproach in his tone, and an expression of anxiety had crept into his eyes.
"Yes," assented Kitty, "but we went on private business and wished to go alone."
Tim looked snubbed, and his colour rose. He made a movement to descend the ladder; but on second thoughts, he decided to remain where he was. Bob began to explain.
"The fact is, we've been very puzzled since the day of the athletic sports, when Kitty found out that Tom Hatch never sent her the rabbit he, had promised me he would give her," he said. "We didn't tell you about it at the time, because—well, we thought we wouldn't. We've been trying to find out where Fluffy really came from, and now we think we know."
"Did you find out from Mr. Dottin?" asked Tim, confusedly.
"No, we didn't," Kitty replied. "But we guess that you got Fluffy from Mr. Dottin for us. Did you, Tim?"
Tim nodded, his face growing redder still.
"Oh, how kind of you!" cried Kitty, earnestly. "Thank you ever so much—"
"But why did you make such a mystery about it?" Bob burst in excitedly. "Why did you put the rabbit in the hutch after dark?"
"So that you should both be surprised, and wonder whose present it was," Tim answered. "And when I found out you weren't very surprised—that you believed Torn Hatch had sent the rabbit—I didn't like to own up, for fear you wouldn't believe me."
"Of course we should have believed you," declared Bob. "We should have known you wouldn't tell a lie."
Tim winced on hearing this, remembering the deliberate untruth he had once told Kitty. The little girl was regarding him with wondering blue eyes.
"I shall never be able to thank you properly," she said gravely. "You are the kindest boy I ever knew, and I haven't deserved that you should be kind to me—indeed I haven't. Bob knows that don't you, Bob? I ought to tell you, Tim, that, until quite lately, I believed you had had to do with the death of my rabbit, and I hope you'll forgive me for thinking it. I had no right to think so badly of you as that, and now I'm dreadfully ashamed to remember that I did. Do forgive me, won't you?"
"I—I've nothing to forgive," gasped Tim, utterly taken aback by the little girl's words and the remorseful expression of her face. "I—I wish you wouldn't speak like that, and—"
"Just say you forgive her, Shuttleworth, and she'll be satisfied," interposed Bob. "It's been on her mind that she's thought worse of you than you deserve," he added with a smile.
"Yes, I ought to have taken your word, Tim," said Kitty distressfully. "I know now that you wouldn't tell a story for the world. Why, what's the matter?"
Well might she inquire, for Tim's plain, freckled countenance was quivering with strong emotion. The next moment he disappeared from view on the other side of the wall, leaving the brother and sister staring at each other in blank amazement.
"He could hardly keep from crying," said Bob, "that's why he's gone. I should never have thought he was such a moody-hearted chap as that."
"I didn't say anything to hurt him, did I?" asked Kitty anxiously. Then, as Bob shook his head, she proceeded, "Fancy his keeping the secret about Fluffy all this time! If father had allowed me to tell him that I saw him take away the covered basket, we should have found out the truth before. I was right about that, you see. Perhaps he'll come back in a few minutes and talk to us again."
But Tim did not return. He had rushed indoors and upstairs to his own room; and whilst Kitty and Bob lingered in the garden, waiting and hoping to see his red head appear over the wall he was sobbing by his bedside and shedding the bitterest, most repentant tears that had ever dimmed his eyes in his short life, as he recalled the words Kitty had spoken in such a tone of conviction—"I know now that you wouldn't tell a story for the world."
CHAPTER XII.
TIM ENTERTAINS.
"TIM, there's a letter from your father by this evening's post," said Mr. Shuttleworth, opening his nephew's bedroom door, "and it contains news which will interest you. Why, dear me, what's amiss?" he inquired, as Tim rose hastily from his knees by the bedside and turned his tear-stained face towards him.
Receiving no response, Mr. Shuttleworth entered the room, and, seating himself on a chair by the window, surveyed the little boy through his spectacles, his expression one of deep concern.
"You are not home-sick?" he asked dubiously. Then, as Tim shook his head, he continued: "That's well. Cannot you tell me what troubles you? Perhaps I can help you."
Tim hesitated. His uncle's voice was very kind, and the near-sighted eyes which met his were full of sympathy. A great longing possessed Tim to confide in some one, and, obeying the impulse of the moment, he opened his heart to his uncle, and told him how he had killed Kitty's rabbit and subsequently denied having overturned the hutch, how he had tried to make amends, and how Kitty's humble request for forgiveness for her suspicion of him and her assurance that she knew he would not tell a lie for the world had made him feel the falsity and cowardice of his past conduct. Mr. Shuttleworth listened without remark until his nephew had finished his confession; then he said:
"It seems to me, Tim, there's only one course to be taken—to make a clean breast of everything to the people next door."
"I should like them to know, but I can't tell them—I can't!" cried Tim in great distress. "Think what a bad opinion they'll have of me, and they've all been so kind. I never meant to kill the rabbit, Uncle John; I didn't know what was in the box."
"It was a spiteful trick anyway, Tim, and I don't wonder you were ashamed afterwards when your temper had cooled down; but I don't comprehend why, instead of owning to the truth, you were led to tell a lie."
"It was because I was afraid the Glanvilles wouldn't have anything to do with me if they knew what I'd done, and I did so want to be friendly with them, Uncle John."
Mr. Shuttleworth was puzzled. He found himself incapable of entering into the workings of his nephew's mind; but he saw he was very conscience-stricken, and in great trouble, and longed to comfort him. "I wish I could set matters on a right footing for you, Tim," he said thoughtfully. "Would you like me to repeat to the Glanvilles all you have imparted to me to-night?"
"Oh, Uncle John, if you only would I should be so glad! I expect they will all despise me, but I can't have Kitty asking me to forgive her, when—Oh, I don't think I ever before told such a big lie as the one I told her, and it's worried me ever since."
"I'm glad to hear it, my boy; it shows me you're not in the habit of uttering falsehoods, It's a grand thing to be truthful, for it takes a deal of courage to be that."
"Yes, indeed it does," Tim rejoined with a sigh.
"The path of truth is difficult to walk because it's steep at times," Mr. Shuttleworth said gravely, "but you know the old adage about putting a stout heart to a steep hill, don't you? And the path of falsehood seems easy travelling at first, because it's all down hill, and we don't see the obstacles that are sure to rise before us as we go on. Take my advice and don't turn from the uphill path in the future, my boy."
"I will try not to," Tim responded earnestly, much touched by his uncle's little sermon. "It is very good of you not to be harder on me, Uncle John. Did you not say you had heard from father?"
"Dear me, I had forgotten that. Yes, I heard from your father by to-night's post; he is going to have his holiday from the bank next month, and proposes to come and fetch you home. What do you think of his plan?"
"I call it a capital one," said Tim, his face brightening.
"Your father will spend his holidays—a fortnight—here. It will be a great pleasure to me to have his society. I shall be sorry to lose you, Tim; and I have been thinking—"
But what Mr. Shuttleworth had been thinking he did not inform his nephew then, for he broke off in the middle of his sentence, and a few minutes later he went downstairs.
That night, after Tim had gone to bed, Mr. Shuttleworth made his call next door. He saw Mr. and Mrs. Glanville, and repeated Tim's confession to them. Needless to say they were greatly surprised; but much to Mr. Shuttleworth's relief, Mrs. Glanville seemed to understand Tim in the matter.
"I see he has a very passionate temper," she said, "and I can quite believe he did not know it was a rabbit's hutch he was overturning, for I am sure he would not wilfully injure a living creature. If only he had owned the truth and not told Kitty that lie!"
"To me that seems the worst part of the business," said Mr. Shuttleworth gravely. "But I think the lie brought its punishment, judging by the distress of mind I found Tim in to-night; I do not believe he will so easily give way to temptation again. I am afraid he has exhibited himself to you all in a very bad light in this matter, but I assure you he is sincerely repentant, and if your little girl and boy can find it in their hearts to forgive him and continue to be his friends, I shall be truly glad."
"I shall explain everything to Kitty and Bob," Mrs. Glanville replied, "and I am sure they will not be harsh in their judgment of Tim. Poor Tim! I must have a little talk to him myself."
Mrs. Glanville kept her word, and the following morning, whilst her children were at school, she made a point of seeing Tim and speaking to him as gently and sympathetically as his own mother would have done under such circumstances, pointing out to him that the fact of his having given way to his passionate temper and having sought revenge had brought about the death of an innocent creature, and had thus led him into further sin. No more was to be said on the subject, she told him, but she hoped he had learnt a lesson he would never forget.