of butter in, and it was an amazing thick table, a solid square of wood, save for a narrow lane down the centre for the man to put his legs in—­if he had legs, which unfortunately there was reason to doubt.  He was a formidable man, whose beard licked the table while he wrote, and he wore something like a brown blanket, with a rope tied round it at the middle.  Even more uncanny than himself were three busts on a shelf, which Tommy took to be deaders, and he feared the blanket might blow open and show that the man also ended at the waist.  But he did not, for presently he turned round to see who had come in (the seat of his chair turning with him in the most startling way) and then Tommy was relieved to notice two big feet far away at the end of him.

“This is the boy, dear,” the lady said.  “I had to bring him in by force.”

Tommy raised his arm instinctively to protect his face, this being the kind of man who could hit hard.  But presently he was confused, and also, alas, leering a little.  You may remember that Reddy had told him she must not go beyond the lamp-post, lest she should be lost again.  She had given him no details of the adventure, but he learned now from Ma-ma and Papa (the man’s name was Papa) that she had strayed when Ma-ma was in a shop and that some good kind boy had found her and brought her home; and what do you say to this, they thought Tommy was that boy!  In his amazement he very nearly blurted out that he was the other boy, but just then the lady asked Papa if he had a shilling, and this abruptly closed Tommy’s mouth.  Ever afterwards he remembered Papa as the man that was not sure whether he had a shilling until he felt his pockets—­a new kind of mortal to Tommy, who grabbed the shilling when it was offered to him, and then looked at Reddy imploringly, he was so afraid she would tell.  But she behaved splendidly, and never even shook her head at him.  After this, as hardly need be told, his one desire was to get out of the house with his shilling before they discovered their mistake, and it was well that they were unsuspicious people, for he was making strange hissing sounds in his throat, the result of trying hard to keep his sniggers under control.

There were many ways in which Tommy could have disposed of his shilling.  He might have been a good boy and returned it next day to Papa.  He might have given Reddy half of it for not telling.  It could have carried him over the winter.  He might have stalked with it into the shop where the greasy puddings were and come rolling out hours afterwards.  Some of these schemes did cross his little mind, but he decided to spend the whole shilling on a present to his mother, and it was to be something useful.  He devoted much thought to what she was most in need of, and at last he bought her a colored picture of Lord Byron swimming the Hellespont.