“Mr Cotter here has just told us. He was passing by the house.” 

 I knew that I was under observation so I continued eating as if the news had not interested me. My uncle explained to old Cotter. 

 “The youngster and he were great friends. The old chap taught him a great deal, mind you; and they say he had a great wish for him.” 

 “God have mercy on his soul,” said my aunt piously. 

 Old Cotter looked at me for a while. I felt that his little beady black eyes were examining me but I would not satisfy him by looking up from my plate. He returned to his pipe and finally spat rudely into the grate. 

 “I wouldn’t like children of mine,” he said, “to have too much to say to a man like that.” 

 “How do you mean, Mr Cotter?” asked my aunt. 

 “What I mean is,” said old Cotter, “it’s bad for children. My idea is: let a young lad run about and play with young lads of his own age and not be.... Am I right, Jack?” 

 “That’s my principle, too,” said my uncle. “Let him learn to box his corner. That’s what I’m always saying to that Rosicrucian there: take exercise. Why, when I was a nipper every morning of my life I had a cold bath, winter and summer. And that’s what stands to me now. Education is all very fine and large.... Mr Cotter might take a pick of that leg mutton,” he added to my aunt. 

 “No, no, not for me,” said old Cotter. 

 My aunt brought the dish from the safe and put it on the table. 

 “But why do you think it’s not good for children, Mr Cotter?” she asked. 

 “It’s bad for children,” said old Cotter, “because their minds are so impressionable. When children see things like that, you know, it has an effect....” 

 I crammed my mouth with stirabout for fear I might give utterance to my anger. Tiresome old red-nosed imbecile! 

 It was late when I fell asleep. Though I was angry with old Cotter for alluding to me as a child, I puzzled my head to extract meaning from his unfinished sentences. In the dark of my room I imagined that I saw again the heavy grey face of the paralytic. I drew the blankets over my head and tried to think of Christmas. But the grey face still followed me. It 

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