“SQUARETOES, SQUARETOES,” said he—­it was thus he had named me, and by that I knew that we were in Scotland, and that my name was become MACKELLAR—­“I have a mind to end your prying and your lectures here where we stand.”

“End it,” said I, with a boldness which seemed strange to me even as I spoke; “end it, and where will you be?  A penniless beggar and an outcast.”

“The old fool speaks truly,” he continued, kicking me twice violently in the back, but otherwise ignoring my presence; “and if I end him, who shall tell the story?  Nay, SQUARETOES, let us make a compact.  I will play the villain, and brawl, and cheat, and murder; you shall take notes of my actions, and, after I have died dramatically in a North American forest, you shall set up a stone to my memory, and publish the story.  What say you?  Your hand upon it.”

Such was the fascination of the man that even then I could not withstand him.  Moreover, the measure of his misdeeds was not yet full.  My caution prevailed, and I gave him my hand.

“Done!” said he; “and a very good bargain for you, SQUARETOES!”

Let the public, then, judge between me and the Master, since of his house not one remains, and I alone may write the tale.

(To be continued.—­Author.) THE END.—­Ed. Punch.

[Footnote 1:  Editor to Author:  “How did the glasses manage to glare?  It seems an odd proceeding for a glass.  Answer paid.”

Author to Editor:  “Don’t be a fool.  I meant the Doctor—­not the glasses.”]

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The Children of the Castle, by Mrs. MOLESWORTH (published by MACMILLAN), will certainly be a favourite with the children in the house.  A quaintly pretty story of child life and fairies, such as she can write so well, it is valuably assisted with Illustrations by WALTER CRANE.

[Illustration]

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE evidently means to catch the youthful book-worm’s eye by the brilliancy of his bindings, but the attraction will not stay there long, for the contents are equal to the covers.

These are days of reminiscences, so "Bob,” the Spotted Terrier, writes his own tale, or, wags it.  Illustrations by HARRISON WEIR.  And here for the tiny ones, bless ’em, is The House that Jack Built,—­a paper book in actually the very shape of the house he built!  And then there’s the melancholy but moral tale of Froggy would a-Wooing Go.  “Recommended,” says the Baron.

Published by DEAN AND SON, who should call their publishing establishment “The Deanery,” is The Doyle Fairy Book, a splendid collection of regular fairy lore; and the Illustrations are by RICHARD DOYLE, which needs nothing more.

The Mistletoe Bough, edited by M.E.  BRADDON, is not only very strong to send forth so many sprigs, but it is a curious branch, as from each sprig hangs a tale.  The first, by the Editor and Authoress, His Oldest Friends, is excellent.