then woe to anyone who
ventured too near Moses and his property.

Now this division of labour, or rather this shifting of responsibility
on to another's shoulders, had its bad results, for while the dog
improved every day in sharpness and conscientious performance of duty,
the boy did the opposite. Tim became somewhat careless and lazy, and
though Joshua knew nothing of it, he did not really fill his post half
so well as before the dog came; he allowed things to get slack. Now,
whether one is a van-boy or a lord-chancellor this is bad, for slackness
leads to neglect, and neglect to worse things. You shall hear what
happened in Tim's case.

One evening the carrier's cart was standing in a little back street in
the Borough waiting for Joshua; he had matters to settle, he told Tim,
which might take him an hour or more, and he added:

"Look alive, now, for it's a nasty neighbourhood to be standing about
in, and there's some smallish parcels in the cart easy made off with.
Don't you let your eye off 'em."

Tim promised, and, taking his seat on the edge of the cart with his legs
swinging, whistled to Moses, who was examining the neighbourhood in an
interested manner; he at once jumped up beside his master and assumed a
gravely watchful and responsible air.

It was not an amusing street, but poor and squalid, full of small
lodging-houses, and little dingy shops; very few people were about, and
in spite of Joshua's warning no one seemed even to notice the carrier's
cart.

Presently there walked slowly by, whistling carelessly, a boy about
Tim's own age; he was quite respectably, though poorly dressed, and wore
his cap very much on one side with an air of smartness which Tim thought
becoming. He stopped and looked at the boy and the dog, and they looked
at him, Moses ready to be suspicious, and Tim to be conversational if
required.

For some minutes the group remained in silent contemplation, then the
new-comer said inquiringly:

"Fer dog?"

"Ah," said Tim, nodding his head.

"Up to snuff, ain't he?" said the other boy.

Tim nodded again, this time in a more friendly manner.

"Wot's his name?"

"Moses."

"Yer give it him?"

"Ah."

"Where's yer boss?" (meaning master).

"Yonder," with a backward movement of the head.

The boy leant his back against a lamp-post near, and seemed in no hurry
to pursue his journey; Tim was not sorry, for a little conversation
beguiled the time, and his remark about Mos