f the summer
air, sheltered the flame of a match between his cupped hands and conveyed
it with infinite care to the bowl of his pipe. A dull but crafty old eye
squinting down the stem assured itself that the tobacco was well alight
before the match was thrown away.

"As I was a-saying, kindness to animals is all very well," he said to the
wayfarer who sat opposite him in the shade of the "Cauliflower" elms;
"but kindness to your feller-creeturs is more. The pint wot you give me
is gone, but I'm just as thankful to you as if it wasn't."

He half closed his eyes and, gazing on to the fields beyond, fell into a
reverie so deep that he failed to observe the landlord come for his mug
and return with it filled. A little start attested his surprise, and,
to his great annoyance, upset a couple of tablespoonfuls of the precious
liquid.

"Some people waste all their kindness on dumb animals," he remarked,
after the landlord had withdrawn from his offended vision, "but I was
never a believer in it. I mind some time ago when a gen'lemen from
Lunnon wot 'ad more money than sense offered a prize for kindness to
animals. I was the only one that didn't try for to win it.

"Mr. Bunnett 'is name was, and 'e come down and took Farmer Hall's 'ouse
for the summer. Over sixty 'e was, and old enough to know better. He
used to put saucers of milk all round the 'ouse for cats to drink, and,
by the time pore Farmer Hall got back, every cat for three miles round
'ad got in the habit of coming round to the back-door and asking for milk
as if it was their right. Farmer Hall poisoned a saucer o' milk at last,
and then 'ad to pay five shillings for a thin black cat with a mangy tail
and one eye that Bob Pretty said belonged to 'is children. Farmer Hall
said he'd go to jail afore he'd pay, at fust, but arter five men 'ad
spoke the truth and said they 'ad see Bob's youngsters tying a empty
mustard-tin to its tail on'y the day afore, he gave way.

"Tha was Bob Pretty all over, that was; the biggest raskel Claybury 'as
ever had; and it wasn't the fust bit o' money 'e made out o' Mr. Bunnett
coming to the place.

"It all come through Mr. Bunnett's love for animals. I never see a man
so fond of animals as 'e was, and if he had 'ad 'is way Claybury would
'ave been overrun by 'em by this time. The day arter 'e got to the farm
he couldn't eat 'is breakfuss because of a pig that was being killed in
the yard, and it was no good pointing out to