visitor I thought they might be just a little—you know—dainty. You don't get tomatoes, not fresh like those, at this time of the year."

And then, standing back yet another step, his head on one side regarding the magnificence of his gift, he paused.

"How much did you give him for them?" we asked, when he had told us so far.

"My God!" said Cruikshank. "I didn't give him anything. He'd brought them as a gift. I suppose he'd stolen them out of his sister's hot-house, but I couldn't refuse them on that score. It would have offended him still more if I'd offered him payment."

I picked up one of the tomatoes that was lying on the table. It was as hard as a bullet.

"What a pity it is," said I, "that you don't study human nature. He was badly in need of some money."

"He's run out of cartridges," said Bellwattle. "I'm very glad you didn't give him anything. Now he can't shoot the rabbits down in Power's field."

"Is he as poor as that?" I asked.

"Lord, yes," said Cruikshank. "I've known him save up his last cartridge for days."

"I expect that's it, then," said I. "He's run out of cartridges."

Bellwattle put her arm round Cruikshank's neck.

"You've saved twelve little bunny rabbits," said she.

"But I haven't," he replied. "I can see it now. When he was going, he stopped just before he got to the gate and called out that he was going to the post.

"'Can you lend me a shilling?' he said; 'I've forgotten my purse.'"

"And you lent it to him!" cried Bellwattle.

Cruikshank nodded his head.

"You'd better count that given," said I. "It was the price of the tomatoes."

CHAPTER X

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