Harding's luck

Mr. Beale, a figure of cleanly habit and increasing steadiness, seemed like a plant growing quickly towa

distemper and doggy fits, and when you should give an ailing dog sal-volatile and when you should merely give it less to eat. And th

nd the neighbors, who had borne a good deal very pat

t of his mouth and stretching his legs in the back-yard, "though to my mind they y

garden, now trampled hard by the india-rubber-soled feet of many dogs; but Dickie did his best with window-boxes, and every window was underlined by a

ied fairness and moderation. "What I do say is, I wish we 'ad more elbow-room for 'em. An' as for exercisin' of 'em all every day, like the

ould be sorry to leave the old place, too. We've 'ad some good times here in our time, farver

re back-yard, it ain't a place where dogs can what y

d Dickie, "let's

summer.' And 'ere is come summer. What if we was to take the road a bit, mate-where there's room to stretch a chap's legs without kickin' a dog or knockin' the crockery over? There's the ole pram up-stairs in the back room as lively as ever she was-only wants a little of paint to be fit for a dook, she does. An' 'ere's me, an' 'ere's you, an' 'ere's the pick of

nd then another picture came to him-he saw the misty last light fainting beyond the great shoulders of the downs, and the "little starses

r. Beale repeated;

hat I say. And what I say

uld not leave home, and all the reasons were four-footed, and wagged loving tail

tossing a still handsome head. "Anybody 'u

we'll give yer five bob a week. An' the nipper 'e shall write it all down in lead-pencil on a bit o

on the perambulator and all their shirts and socks were washed and mended, and lying on the kitchen window-ledge

is noo place," said Mr. Beale, "an' 'ave 'im boltin' off gracious knows whe

. When it had had its supper it wagged its tail, turned a clear a

ast! A trick dog 'e is. 'E's wuth wot I give for 'im, so

the front door in the face of Amelia coming in, pail-laden, from "doing" the steps, and this to prevent the flight

door at all for?" Mr

she said, an

t, muttered something, and made one jump to the back door. It was closed. Amelia was giving the scullery floor a "thorough scr

ee the dachshund disappearing at full speed, "like a bit of brown toffee-sti

r nor see nobody. An' 'e ups on his 'ind legs and turns the 'andle with 'is little twisty front pawses, clever as a monkey, and hout 'e goes like a harrow in a bow. Trained to it, ye see. I bet his m

told him of the loss of the dog; "that's wha

I think of most," he said admiringly. "Now I'd never a thought of a thing like that myself-not if I'd

tily. "We earns our livings. We don

don't. That's just what I'm a-saying, ain't it? We shouldn't never

self had been cheated set Dickie thinking. He sai

er of ours. We pays ou

d Beale virtuously; "not a patter have I done sin

with that redheaded c

e a cut above a low chap like wot 'e is. The pram's dry as a bone a

and sweet even in Deptford, they bade far

ey turned the corner. "It'll be a bit lonesome," she said. "On

nd shut the door, seemed to assure her t

place by the sea where Dickie's uncle, in the other life, had a castle, a

not so. The present was after all the real thing. The dreams could wait. The knowledge that they were there, waiting, made all the ordinary things more beautiful and more interesting. The feel of the soft dust underfoot, the bright, dewy grass and clover by the wayside, the lessening of houses and the growing widen

seemed to recognize a friend, gambolled round h

whispered to Mr. Beale and climbed out of the pera

neared Orpington the woman said, "Our road parts here; and

aid Beale; "besides, th

dog?" the

g," said Beal

t," she said.

er basket and the turning to the right, and Dickie suddenly s

ried, "you're

any in my time,"

dream . .

the woman. "And," she added,

." said

shut's a good motto," said she, nodd

on't think," said Be

that Beale should not wonder. "May I ride in the pram, farver? My foot's

ace called Chevering Park, pretty as a picture-I thought we might lay out

isked and played, he was glad that he had not yielded to his tiredness and stopped to rest the night anywhere else. Chevering Park is a very beautiful place, I would have you to know. And the travellers were lucky. The dogs were good

invented houses," he said

garden-land of Kent. Dickie loved every minute of it, every leaf in the hedge, every blade of grass by the r

feel the thrill that Dickie felt when Beale, as they topped a ridge of the great South Down

wn at Arden Castle, Dickie saw two little figures in its green courtyard, and wondered whether they could possibly be Edred and Elfrida, the little cousins whom he had met in King James the First's time, and who, the nurse said, really belonged to the times of King Edward the Seventh, or Nowadays, just as

shes Dickie perceived that Mr. Beale was

asked at last. "Ou

othing," sa

those Talbots wi

e my face; and I 'adn't a beard

hen?" sa

, "we're a-gettin' very near my ole dad

as settled we'd

it-I tell you straight I shan't like it. But we're

f to where he lives and

es, and if I stays away I stays away. It's

u think you ought to go, just on the ch

e, "I oughter gone 'ome any time t

your lookout. I know what

the winding walks of the pleasant garden in old Deptford-the father who had given him

eale. "What you t

t 'ud be as good as three Sundays in the week to him

e of Lord Arden's men. 'E used to ride me on t

kie a very odd, half-pleasant, half-frightened fee

" he sa

ath a bit further on. You cut through the copse and cater across the eleven-acre medder, and bear a

s, and a brick pathway leading from the wooden gate to the front door. And by the front door sat an old man in a Windsor chair, with a brow

it. You just arst for a drink, and sort of see 'ow the land l

Then the brown spaniel became aware of True, and barked, and t

n many wrinkles turned f

drink of water

" said th

-warmed iron, and went up the brick path, as the

"draw up a bucket, if thy leg'

arms, not my legs," s

dow-ledge," said the old man. "Fetch me a

well, fetched the mug, and offered it brimming to the old man. Then he drank, and looked at the garden ablaze with flowers-blush-rose

kie thought. He had seen a scene just like that, wher

ow himself on his knees, exclaiming, "Father, it is I-your erring but repentant

have made the speech, beginning, "Father,

's Beale,

e," old Bea

London. 'E told me

rgot the garden same as 'e's

"'e's come to see you, an 'e's waiting out

old man, and shouted in a thin, high voi

looking at it-his hand had not forgotten the way of it, for all it was so long since he had passed

shut and said, "Why, it is James-so it is," as if

nd then Beale said, "Th

the garden 'ud do all right

r about. So he shouted from the gate something about "back presently," and went off along the cart track towards Arden Castle a

nk straining summer cabbage in a colander, as though he had lived there all his life and never

steak and vegetables. The kitchen was pleasant and cozy though rather dark, on account of the white climbing rose that grew round the window. After dinner the men sat in the sun and smoked, and Dickie occupied himself in teaching the

red closely at the child. "Where'd you get t

me," said Beale.

he's got. But my eyes ain't so good as wot they was. What d'you say to stopping along of me a bit, my boy? T

nd Dickie slept in a narrow, whitewashed slip of a room that had once been a larder. The brown spani

if we feel we can't stick it without 'em," sa

y a long time, t

you notice the tea tasted quite different from what it does anywhere else? That's the soft water, that is

ouple of hundred yards and look down. And presently he would see Edred and Elfrida. Would they know him? That w