his shape, and I took off part of his ears, and about half his
tail, he might be made to look respectable."

"Rubbish!" cried Tom.

"Oh no, it arn't, sir. Dogs can be wonderfully improved. But what do
you say to askin' cook to save the bits and bones while there's no one
to feed him? I'll take 'em every day as I go home from work. What do
you say?"

"Yes, of course," cried Tom; and from that day the ugly mongrel was
regularly fed, but after the first feeding it did not trouble David to
take the food, but left its master's side about three o'clock every
afternoon, and came and fetched the food itself.

"Which it's only nat'ral," said David, with a grim smile; "for if ever I
did see a dog as had ribs that looked as if they'd been grown into a
basket to hold meat, that dog is Pete Warboys'; but I hope as good meat
and bones 'll do something to make his hair grow decent, for he's a
reg'lar worser as he is."

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

It was about a fortnight after the accident, that Tom was returning one
day from Mother Warboys' cottage, where the old woman had sat scowling
at him, while Pete lay back perfectly helpless, and smiled faintly at
his visitor, when he met Mrs Fidler by the gate looking out for him.

"There's some one come from London to see you, Master Tom."

"From London?"

"Yes, sir; he said his name was Pringle."

"Pringle!" cried Tom eagerly. "Where is he?"

"In the dining-room with your uncle, sir; and I was to send you in as
soon as you came back."

Tom hurried in, and found the clerk from Gray's Inn very smartly
dressed. His hat was all glossy, and there was a flower in his
button-hole.

"Ah, Pringle," cried the boy, "I'm so glad to see you. This is Pringle,
who was so kind to me, uncle, when I was at the office."

"Yes," said Uncle Richard, rather grimly; "Mr Pringle has already
introduced himself, and--ahem!--told me of the friendly feeling which
existed between you."

The clerk, who had evidently been very uncomfortable, had brightened up
a little at the sight of Tom, but his countenance fell again at Uncle
Richard's words.

"Now, Mr Pringle, perhaps you will be good enough to repeat that which
you have told me--in confidence, for I should like my nephew to hear it,
so that he can give his opinion upon the matter."

"Certainly, sir," said Pringle, brightening up, and becoming the
sharp-speaking clerk once more. "The fact is, Mr Thomas, I have left
Mr Brandon's office--which