was sitting looking at me, and almost ready to say (as now she did seven
times in a week), "How like your father you are growing! Jack, come here
and kiss me"--"oh, mother, if you only knew how much I want a shilling!"

"Jack, you shall never want a shilling while I am alive to give thee
one. But what is it for, dear heart, dear heart?"

"To buy something over at Porlock, mother. Perhaps I will tell you
afterwards. If I tell not it will be for your good, and for the sake of
the children."

"Bless the boy, one would think he was threescore years of age at least.
Give me a little kiss, you Jack, and you shall have the shilling."

For I hated to kiss or be kissed in those days: and so all honest boys
must do, when God puts any strength in them. But now I wanted the powder
so much that I went and kissed mother very shyly, looking round the
corner first, for Betty not to see me.

But mother gave me half a dozen, and only one shilling for all of them;
and I could not find it in my heart to ask her for another, although I
would have taken it. In very quick time I ran away with the shilling
in my pocket, and got Peggy out on the Porlock road without my mother
knowing it. For mother was frightened of that road now, as if all the
trees were murderers, and would never let me go alone so much as a
hundred yards on it. And, to tell the truth, I was touched with fear for
many years about it; and even now, when I ride at dark there, a man by
a peat-rick makes me shiver, until I go and collar him. But this time
I was very bold, having John Fry's blunderbuss, and keeping a sharp
look-out wherever any lurking place was. However, I saw only sheep and
small red cattle, and the common deer of the forest, until I was nigh to
Porlock town, and then rode straight to Mr. Pooke's, at the sign of the
Spit and Gridiron.

Mr. Pooke was asleep, as it happened, not having much to do that day;
and so I fastened Peggy by the handle of a warming-pan, at which she
had no better manners than to snort and blow her breath; and in I walked
with a manful style, bearing John Fry's blunderbuss. Now Timothy Pooke
was a peaceful man, glad to live without any enjoyment of mind at
danger, and I was tall and large already as most lads of a riper age.
Mr. Pooke, as soon as he opened his eyes, dropped suddenly under the
counting-board, and drew a great frying-pan over his head, as if the
Doones were come to rob him, as their custom was, mostly after the
fair-ti