his
dislike to boys, went in alone, leaving Ned to amuse himself outside.

"I'll not be long, and I want you to walk up and down out of sight of
his window, or he may, if he sees you, say something unpleasant,"
observed Mary.

Ned, though he cared very little as to what the old man might say about
him, did not wish to have Mary's feelings hurt, and promising obedience,
walked on to a spot whence he could watch for her when she came out.

She rapped at the door, the bolts were withdrawn, and she entered.

"Glad to see you, little girl," said Mr Shank, as he led the way into
his room. "No one has come here for many a day. I am well-nigh
starving, for the people in the village yonder do not trouble themselves
about the wretched old miser, as they call me; and I could not go out
yesterday to buy food--if I did, where was I to get the money to pay for
it?"

"Aunt, fearing that you might be in want, has sent you something to
eat," said Mary, unpacking her basket, and placing the contents on the
three-legged table.

The old man drew it towards him, and began to eat far more voraciously
than usual, showing that in one respect at all events his assertion was
correct. Mary, thinking that it might amuse him, mentioned the
lieutenant's journey to London and its object.

"So they intend to send that boy off to sea! The best thing they can do
with him. Boys are always up to mischief at home, and it is to be hoped
he'll never come back."

"You should not say that, Mr Shank!" exclaimed Mary, indignantly. "Ned
is a good honest boy, he never harmed you in any way, and if he had it
is your duty to forgive him, for God tells us in His Word to forgive our
enemies, and do good to those who ill-treat us."

"I don't understand that; if we are not to hate our enemies, who and
what are we to hate?" muttered the old man.

"We are to hate nothing except sin and Satan, because that is what God
hates, I am very sure," said Mary. "Doesn't the book I brought you last
week say that? And here is another which aunt has sent you, perhaps you
will like to read it," and she put the volume on the table.

"What the book says doesn't concern me. I do no harm to any one; all I
want is to lead a quiet life and be let alone," he muttered, evidently
not wishing to enter into a discussion with the little girl, fearing
perhaps that he might lose his temper. He, however, took the book she
had brought and gave her back the other, observing, "Pe