“‘When I’ve done my day’s work,’ he ses, ’I can always find a job in the garden, and arter that I go in and ’elp my missis put the children to bed.  She ain’t strong, pore thing, and it’s better than wasting time and money up at the “Cauliflower."’

“He ‘ad a lot o’ talk with Mr. Bunnett for the next day or two, and when ’e went round with the toad on the third day as lively and well as possible the old gen’leman said it was a miracle.  And so it would ha’ been if it had been the same toad.

“He took a great fancy to Bob Pretty, and somehow or other they was always dropping acrost each other.  He met Bob with ’is dog one day—­a large, ugly brute, but a’most as clever as wot Bob was ’imself.  It stood there with its tongue ’anging out and looking at Bob uneasy-like out of the corner of its eye as Bob stood a-patting of it and calling it pet names.

“’ Wunnerful affectionate old dog, ain’t you, Joseph?’ ses Bob.

“‘He’s got a kind eye,’ ses Mr. Bunnett.

“‘He’s like another child to me, ain’t you, my pretty?’ ses Bob, smiling at ’im and feeling in ’is pocket.  ‘Here you are, old chap.’

“He threw down a biskit so sudden that Joseph, thinking it was a stone, went off like a streak o’ lightning with ’is tail between ’is legs and yelping his ‘ardest.  Most men would ha’ looked a bit foolish, but Bob Pretty didn’t turn a hair.

“‘Ain’t it wunnerful the sense they’ve got,’ he ses to Mr. Bunnett, wot was still staring arter the dog.

“‘Sense?’ ses the old gen’leman.

“‘Yes,’ ses Bob smiling.  ’His food ain’t been agreeing with ’im lately and he’s starving hisself for a bit to get round agin, and ’e knew that ‘e couldn’t trust hisself alongside o’ this biskit.  Wot a pity men ain’t like that with beer.  I wish as ’ow Bill Chambers and Henery Walker and a few more ’ad been ‘ere just now.’

“Mr. Bunnett agreed with ’im, and said wot a pity it was everybody ’adn’t got Bob Pretty’s commonsense and good feeling.

“‘It ain’t that,’ ses Bob, shaking his ’ead at him; ’it ain’t to my credit.  I dessay if Sam Jones and Peter Gubbins, and Charlie Stubbs and Dicky Weed ’ad been brought up the same as I was they’d ’ave been a lot better than wot I am.’

“He bid Mr. Bunnett good-bye becos ’e said he’d got to get back to ’is work, and Mr. Bunnett had ’ardly got ’ome afore Henery Walker turned up full of anxiousness to ask his advice about five little baby kittens wot ’is old cat had found in the wash-place:  the night afore.

“‘Drownd them little innercent things, same as most would do, I can’t,’ he ses, shaking his ’ead; ’but wot to do with ’em I don’t know.’

“’Couldn’t you find ’omes for ’em?’ ses Mr. Bunnett.

“Henery Walker shook his ’ead agin. ‘’Tain’t no use thinking o’ that,’ he ses.  ’There’s more cats than ’omes about ‘ere’.  Why, Bill Chambers drownded six o’ny last week right afore the eyes of my pore little boy.  Upset ‘im dreadful it did.’