tler. Yes; the judge settled him for life."

The boy looked round for applause, and received it sufficiently to make
him go on with his banter.

"Just as if we weren't sure to find out the truth. Calls him a
squatter. Yes; the government made him squat pretty quickly."

There was another laugh as the boys wandered on along the edge of the
great common, where the quickset hedge divided it from the cultivated
land, high above which a lark was circling and singing with all its
might.

"I want to know why the doctor lets him stop amongst gentlemen's sons."

"I know, Bry Green," said a mischievous-looking, dark-eyed boy; "it's
because his father pays."

"He wouldn't be here long if his father didn't," said Green laughingly.

"Unless he supplied the doctor with sugar and soap and candles and soda
and blue."

There was a roar of laughter once more, in which Dominic Braydon joined,
and Green turned so suddenly on the last speaker that the young thrushes
were nearly jerked out of the nest.

"Do you want me to give you a wipe on the mouth, Tomlins?" cried the boy
angrily.

"Oh no, sir; please don't, sir," was the reply, with a display of mock
horror and dread; "only you said gentlemen's sons, sir,--and I thought
what a pity it was Nic Braydon's father wasn't a grocer."

"My father's a wholesale dealer in the City," said Green loftily; "and
it's only as a favour that he lets old Dunham have things from his
warehouse at trade price."

"Ho, ho, ho! here's a game!" cried the dark boy, throwing himself down
on the velvety turf and kicking out his legs in his delight.

"My father isn't a poor parson," continued Green contemptuously; "and if
any of you fellows like to call on me during the holidays, any one will
show you Alderman Green's big house on Clapham Common. We keep a
butler, footman, coachman, and three gardeners."

"And the gardeners make all the beds," said Tomlins, at which there was
another laugh.

"You're a little idiot, Tomlins," said Green loftily.

"Yes, sir; but I can't help it," said the boy meekly. "You see my
father never brought home turtle soup from the Lord Mayor's dinner so as
to make me big and fat."

"You won't be happy till I've rubbed your ugly snub nose against the
next tree," cried Green. "Get up, you gipsy-looking cub!"

He stepped quickly as he spoke to where the boy still lay upon the green
and kicked him viciously.

"Oh!" yelled the boy, who began to writhe now in earnest