ad you never no muver?" demanded Joan curiously; "or does
funny-lookin' peoples like you just grow the way Topsy did? Topsy never
had no muver. That was 'cause she was black, I s'pose; and Tonio won't
have none either?"

"Yes, I had a mother once, missy--a good and loving mother, and a kind
grandmother too. But they are both gone this many a year ago,
and--except grandad, who doesn't count--I have neither kith nor kin in
the world."

Bambo sighed deeply, overcome by sad memories. A tear trickled slowly
down his hollow, weather-beaten cheek, and Joan put up a smudgy, gentle,
little hand to wipe it away.

"Don't be sorry, please, dear dwarf. Joan loves you; you's so kind to
Joan," she murmured.

"Couldn't _we_ be your kith and kin?" asked Darby anxiously. "I expect
by 'kith and kin' you just mean friends. We'll be your friends if you'd
like us to. We're both very fond of you already.--Aren't we, Joan?"

"Yes, werry," Joan assented warmly, continuing to caress the dwarf's
haggard face with her soft, chubby fingers.

"Bless your dear, loving little hearts!" he ejaculated fervently,
looking from one to the other of the earnest faces raised so trustfully
to his. "Them's the sweetest words that anybody has spoken to poor Bambo
this many's the day--since my mother died. _She_ always had gentle words
and sweet looks in plenty for her misshapen boy; and granny too, bless
her! But after they went and left me the world seemed all cold and
cruel, with nothing better for the likes of me than cuffs and kicks. It
was always, 'Get out of the way, you object!' 'Oh, poor wretch! how
horrid-looking he is!' or else jeers, gibes, and laughter. And since I
became a man, _this_ kind of a man, I mean," he explained, glancing from
Joan to his stunted limbs, huge feet, and claw-like hands, "it has been
harder still--harsh words and heavy blows if I did not bring in money
enough at shows and fairs. Now, I think the Lord Jesus has seen my
loneliness, taken pity upon me, and sent two of His own to cheer me, and
brighten a bit of the wilderness for a weary pilgrim. And we'll see if
the dwarf can't do something to show his gratitude," said Bambo
resolutely, yet speaking softly as if to himself. "Firgrove! And this is
Barchester, you may say--only about three miles from it as the crow
flies--and Barchester's thirty odd miles from Firdale. It's not so far
after all, and yet it would be a goodish bit to tramp," he added
thoughtfully.

"But do yo