e, and
especially in Crazy Colin, who was a frequent visitor at the Squire's
kitchen, for Mrs. Stewart never refused him a generous bowl of porridge
and milk, or a huge slice of bread and butter. At first he was not a
little afraid of Crazy Colin. But soon he got accustomed to him, and
then, boy-like, presuming upon acquaintance, began to tease him a bit
when he would come in for a "bite and sup." More than once the idiot's
eyes flashed dangerously at Bert's prank; but, fool though he was, he
had sense enough to understand that any outbreak would mean his prompt
expulsion and banishment, and so he would restrain himself. One
memorable day, however, when Bert least expected or invited it, the
demon of insanity broke loose in a manner that might have had serious
consequences.

It was on a Sunday. The whole family had gone off to church, except
Bert, who had been left at home in the charge of the cook. She was a
strapping big Scotch lassie, and very fond of Bert. About an hour after
the family left, Crazy Colin sauntered along and took his seat in the
kitchen. Neither Kitty nor Bert was by any means pleased to see him, but
they thought it better to keep their feelings to themselves. Bert,
indeed, made some effort to be entertaining, but Crazy Colin seemed in
rather a sulky mood, an unusual thing for him, so Bert soon gave it up,
and went off into the garden.

The roses were blooming beautifully there, and he picked several before
returning to the kitchen. When he came back, he found the unwelcome
visitor alone, Kitty having gone into the other part of the house. He
was sitting beside the table with his head bent forward upon his hands,
apparently in deep dejection. Upon the table was a large knife which
Kitty had just been using in preparing the meat for dinner. Thinking it
would please poor Colin, Bert selected the finest rose in his bunch and
handed it to him, moving off toward the door leading into the hall as
he did so. Colin lifted his head and grasped the rose rudely. As his big
hand closed upon it, a thorn that hid under the white petals pierced
deep into the ball of his thumb. In an instant the sleeping demon of
insanity awoke. With eyes blazing and frame trembling with fury, he
sprang to his feet, seized the knife, and with a hoarse, inarticulate
shout, turned upon Bert, who, paralysed with terror, stood rooted to the
spot half-way between the idiot and the door. It was a moment of
imminent peril, but ere Crazy