d with his arms folded,
leaning upon Solomon, talking to Tom Tallington and staring at Thorpeley
the constable, who was leaning against a post smoking and staring with
one eye at the fen, while with the other he watched the group of three
in the Toft farm-yard.

"Well, I'm sure I don't," said Tom. "He never goes over to the town to
buy any."

"And Hicky says nobody fetches any for him, but he always seems to have
plenty though he hasn't any luggage or box or anything."

"No; I saw him come," said Tom. "He only had a small bundle in a red
handkerchief!"

"And he keeps on smoking from morning till night."

"And watching you!"

"Yes. He's always watching me," cried Dick in an aggrieved tone.
"Stand still, will you? Yes, you'd better! You kick, and I'll kick
you!"

This was to Solomon, who had hitched up his back in an arch, laid down
his ears, thrust his head between his fore-legs and his tail between his
hind, giving himself the aspect of being about to reach under and bite
the tip of the said tail. But that was not the case, and Dick knew by
experience that all this was preparatory to a display of kicking.

Solomon may have understood plain English or he may not. This is a
matter which cannot be decided. At all events he slowly raised his head
and twisted his tail in a peculiar manner, stretched out his neck, and
cocking his ears he sighed loudly a sigh like the fag-end of a long
bray, all of which seemed to point to the fact that he felt himself to
be a slave in leathern chains, gagged with a rusty bit, and at the mercy
of his master.

"Flies tease him," said Tom apologetically. "Poor old Sol!"

"Don't touch him!" cried Dick, "or he'll kick you."

"Poor old Sol!" said Tom again, and this time he approached the donkey's
head.

"Don't touch him, I tell you! He'll bite if you do! He's in a nasty
temper because I would put on his bridle, and I was obliged to persuade
him to be quiet with a pitchfork handle."

"What a shame!" said Tom.

"Shame, eh! Just you look here," cried Dick, and down one of his coarse
worsted stockings, he displayed a great bruise on his white leg. "He
did that three days ago, and he tried to do it again this morning, only
I was too quick for him."

"Haugh! haugh-h-haugh!" sighed Solomon in a most dismal tone.

"Says he's sorry for it!" cried Tom, grinning.

"Oh, very well then, I'm sorry I hit him with the pitchfork handle. I
say, Tom, I gave him such a whop!"

"