s, there was to Dennis one corner at the Manor
Farm which had special attractions, and that was where the wheelwright
worked. It was a long narrow barn fitted up as a carpenter's shop, with
a bench and a lathe and all manner of tools: full of shavings and
sawdust, planks of wood and half-finished farm implements. Here the
wheelwright stood and worked all day. He made and mended carts,
wheelbarrows, ladders, hay-rakes, and all sorts of things used in the
farm, and had always as much as he could do. Dennis liked nothing
better than a little quiet time with Tuvvy, as he was called, and though
he did not talk much, he eyed all his movements with such earnest
attention that it may be supposed he learned something of carpentering.

Tuvvy's movements were nimble and neat, for he was a clever workman, and
knew what he was about: now and then he would cast a swift glance round
at Dennis out of his bright black eyes, but he never paused in his work
to talk, and there was seldom any sound in the barn but that of the saw
and hammer, or the whirring of the lathe. His skin was so very dark,
and his hair so black and long, that people called him a gypsy, and
Dennis knew that he was a little wild sometimes, because old Sally shook
her head when she mentioned him.

That meant that Tuvvy was not always quite sober, which was a great
pity, because he was so clever, that he could earn a great deal if he
kept steady. In the barn, however, he was as steady and hard-working as
a man could be, and what his conduct was out of it, did not at all
affect Dennis's attachment and admiration. Maisie always knew, if she
missed her brother during one of their visits to the farm, that she
should find him in the barn staring at Tuvvy at his work; and he had
done this so much, that he began to feel as though he had helped to make
Mr Solace's carts and barrows.

All this made him quite ready to agree with Maisie's suggestion, for
although he was not very anxious about the grey kitten's welfare, he
thought there might be a chance of slipping round to see how Tuvvy was
getting on.

"Where shall we go first?" said Maisie, as they started on their
expedition, with Peter, the little rough dog, barking round them. "The
vicarage comes first, and then Dr Price, and then old Sally."

"All right," said Dennis; "that's the best last, and the worst first."

The vicarage stood on a little hill close to the church, looking down on
the village street.

"I