LITMIR.BIZ

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the doag,” replied Ransey, “who would have killed the postman fellah dead out, if I had tipped him the wink.”

      “Aw! Well, my business is vewy bwief. Heah is a pawcel from Miss Scwagley, of which she begs your acceptance.”

      “Ah, thank you. Dee – lighted. Pray walk in. Sorry my butler is out at pwesent. But what will you dwink – sherry, port, champagne – wum? Can highly wecommend the wum.”

      “Oh, thanks. Then I’ll have just a spot of wum.”

      Ransey brought out his father’s bottle – a bottle that had lain untouched for a long time indeed – and his father’s glass, and the flunkey drank his “spot,” and really seemed to enjoy it.

      Ransey opened the door for him.

      “Convey my best thanks to Miss Scwagley,” he said, “and inform her that we will be ree – joiced to receive her, and that Miss Tansey and myself will not fail to return the call at a future day. Good mo’ning.”

      “Good mawning, I’m shuah.”

      And the elegant flunkey lifted his hat and bowed.

      Ransey ran in, gave the leveret stew just a couple of stirs to keep it from burning, then threw himself into his father’s chair, stretched out his legs, and laughed till the very rafters rang.

      Book One – Chapter Five.

      “Oh, No! I’ll Never Leave ’Ansey till we is Bof Deaded.”

      The day had looked showery, but the sun was now shining very brightly, and so Ransey Tansey laid dinner out of doors on the grass.

      As far as curiosity went, Babs was quite on an equality with her sex, and the meal finished, and the bones eaten by Bob, she wanted to know at once what the man with the pretty buttons had brought.

      Ransey’s eyes, as well as his sister’s, were very large, but they grew bigger when that big parcel was opened.

      There was a note from Miss Scragley herself right on the top, and this was worded as delicately, and with apparently as much fear of giving offence, as if Ransey had been the son of a real captain, instead of a canal bargee.

      Why, here was a complete outfit: two suits of nice brown serge for Ransey himself, stockings and light shoes, to say nothing of real Baltic shirts, a neck-tie, and sailor’s cap.

      “She’s oceans too good to live, that lady is!” exclaimed Ransey, rapturously.

      “Me see! – me see! Babs wants pletty tlothes.”

      “Yes, dear Babs, look! There’s pretty clothes.”

      That crimson frock would match Babs’s rosy cheeks and yellow curly hair “all to little bits,” as Ransey expressed it.

      After all the things had been admired over and over again, they were refolded and put carefully away in father’s strong locker.

      I think that the Admiral knew there was gladness in the children’s eyes, for he suddenly hopped high up the hill, and did a dance that would have delighted the heart of a Pawnee Indian.

      “No,” said Miss Scragley that same day after dinner, as she and her friends sat out in the great veranda, “one doesn’t exactly know, Mr Davies, how to benefit children like these.”

      The parson placed the tips of his fingers together meditatively, and looked down at Miss Scragley’s beautiful setter.

      “Of course,” he said, slowly and meditatively, “teaching is essential to their bodily as well as to their spiritual welfare.”

      “Very prettily put, Mr Davies,” said Miss Scragley; “don’t you think so, Dr Fairincks?”

      “Certainly, Miss Scragley, certainly; and I was just wondering if they had been vaccinated. I’d get the little one into a home, and the boy sent to a Board school. And the father – drinks rum, eh? – get him into the house. Let him end his days there. What should you propose, Weathereye?”

      “Eh? Humph! Do what you like with the little one. Send the boy to school – a school for a year or two where he’ll be flogged twice a day. Hardens ’em. So much for the bodily welfare, parson. As to the spiritual, why, send him to sea. Too young, Miss Scragley? Fiddlesticks! Look at me. Ran away to sea at ten. In at the hawse-hole, in a manner o’ speaking. Just fed the dogs and the ship’s cat at first, and emptied the cook’s slush-bucket. Got buffeted about a bit, I can tell you. When I went aft, steward’s mate kicked me for’ard; when I got for’ard, cook’s mate kicked me aft. No place of quiet and comfort for me except swinging in the foretop with the purser’s monkey. But – it made a man of me. Look at me now, Miss Scragley.”

      Miss Scragley looked.

      “Staff-commander of the Royal Navy. Three stripes. Present arms from the sentries, and all that sort of thing. Ahem!”

      And the bold mariner helped himself to another glass of Miss Scragley’s port.

      “But you won’t go to the wars again, Captain Weathereye?” ventured Miss Scragley.

      The Captain rounded on her at once – put his helm hard up, so to speak, till he was bows on to his charming hostess.

      His face was like a full moon rising red over the city’s haze.

      “How do you know, madam? Not so very old, am I? War, indeed! Humph! – I’ll be sorry when that’s done,” he added.

      “What! the war, Captain Weathereye?” said the lady.

      “Fiddlesticks! No, madam, the port– if you will have it.”

      “As for the father of these children,” he continued, after looking down a little, “if he’s been a sailor, as you say, the house won’t hold him. As well expect an eagle to live with the hens. Rum? Bah! I’ve drunk as much myself as would float the Majestic.”

      “But I say, you know,” he presently remarked as he took Eedie on his knee; “Little Sweetheart here and I will run over to see the children to-morrow forenoon, and we’ll take the setter with us. Anything for a little excitement, when one can’t hunt or shoot. And we’ll take you as well, madam.”

      Miss Scragley said she would be delighted; at the same time she could not help thinking the gallant captain’s sentences might have been better worded. He might have put her before the setter, to say the least.

      Next morning was a very busy one at Hangman’s Hall.

      Ransey Tansey was up betimes, but he allowed Babs to sleep on until he had lit the fire, hung on the kettle, and run for the milk.

      Ransey was only a boy, and boys will be boys, so he could not help telling kind Mrs Farrow, the farmer’s wife, of his luck, and how he expected real society people to visit himself and Babs that day, so he must run quickly home to dress.

      “Certainly, dear,” said Mrs Farrow; “and here are some lovely new-laid eggs. You brought me fish, you know; and really I have so many eggs I don’t know what to do with them all. Good-bye, Ransey. Of course you’ll run across and tell me all about it to-night, and bring Babs on your back.”

      Babs was a “dooder dirl” than usual that morning, if that were possible.

      Ransey was so glad that the sun was shining; he was sure now that the visit would be paid. But he had Babs to wash and dress, and himself as well. When he had washed Babs and combed her hair, he set her high up on the bank to dry, as he phrased it, and gave her the new doll to play with. Very pretty she looked, too, in that red frock of hers.

      Well, away went Ransey to the stream, carrying his bundle. Bob was left to mind Babs.

      Ransey was gone quite a long time, and the child grew weary and sighed.

      “Bob!” said Babs.

      “Yes, Babs,” said Bob, or seemed to say.

      “Tiss my new dolly.”

      Bob licked the doll’s face. Then he licked Babs’s hand. “Master’ll soon

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