Karl Krinken, His Christmas Stocking

“And when the little sleeper awoke, they bent all their attention to giving him a pleasant day. He had a good dinner and a nice supper. His clothes were thoroughly dried; and Mrs. Meadow said when she put them on, that if she could only get a chance of a week-day, she would patch them up comfortably for him. Towards nightfall the rain stopped, and he went home dry and warm, and with a good piece of cheese and a loaf of plain gingerbread under his arm. When he was all ready to set out he paused at the door, and looking up at Mrs. Meadow said,—

“‘Does he say we mustn’t do that?’

“‘Who, dear?’

“‘Does Jesus Christ say we mustn’t do that?’

“‘Do what?’

“‘Steal,’ said Norman, softly.

“‘Yes, to be sure. The Bible says it, and the Bible is God’s word; and Jesus said it over again when he was on the earth.’

“Norman stood a quarter of a minute, and then went out and closed the door.

“The next morning they looked eagerly for him. But he did not come. He stopped at evening, as usual, but Silky was just then busy and did not speak to him beyond a word. Tuesday morning he did not come. At night he was there again with his jug.

“‘How do you do, Norman?’ said Mrs. Meadow, when she filled it, ‘and how is Long-Ears?’

“But Norman did not answer, and turned to go.

“‘Come here in the morning, Norman,’ Mrs. Meadow called after him.

“Whether he heard her or not, he did not shew himself on his way to the factory next morning. That was Wednesday.

“‘Norman hasn’t been here these three days, mother,’ said Silky. ‘Can it be he has made up his mind to do without his halfpennyworth of milk for the dog?’

“‘Little fellow!’ said Mrs. Meadow, ‘I meant to have given it to him; skim milk would do, I dare say; but I forgot to tell him Sunday; and I told him last night to stop, but he hasn’t done it. We’ll go up there, Silky, and see how he is, after dinner.’

“‘To the factory, mother?’

“‘Ay.’

“‘And I’ll carry a little pail of milk along, mother.’

“‘Well, honey, do.’

“After dinner they went, and I went in Silky’s pocket. The factory was not a great distance from Mrs. Meadow’s house, which stood half way between that and the town. Mrs. Meadow asked for Mr. Swift, and presently he came. Mrs. Meadow was a general favourite, I had found before; everybody spoke her fair; certainly she did the same by everybody.

“‘Is little Norman Finch at work to-day, Mr. Swift?’

“‘Norman Finch? Well, yes, ma’am, he’s to work,’ said the overseer;—‘he don’t do much work this day or so.’

“‘He’s not just right well, Mr. Swift.’

“‘Well, no, I s’pose he isn’t. He hasn’t hard work neither; but he’s a poor little billet of a boy.’

“‘Is he a good boy, sir?’

“‘Average,’ said Mr. Swift;—‘as good as the average. What, you’re going to adopt him?’

“‘No, sir,’ said Mrs. Meadow; ‘I wanted to ask a few questions about him.’

“‘I don’t know any harm of him,’ said Mr. Swift. ‘He’s about like the common. Not particularly strong in the head, nor anywhere else, for that matter; but he is a good-feeling child. Yes—now I remember. It’s as much as a year ago, that I was mad with him one day, and was going to give the careless little rascal a strapping for something,—I forget what; we must keep them in order, Mrs. Meadow, let them be what they will;—I was going to give it to him, for something,—and a bold brave fellow in the same room, about twice as big and six times as strong as Norman, offered to take it and spare him. I didn’t care; it answered my purpose of keeping order just as well that Bill Bollings should have it as Norman Finch, if he had a mind;—and ever since that time Finch has been ready to lay down his body and soul for Bollings, if it could do him any service. He’s a good-hearted boy, I do suppose.’

“Mrs. Meadow and Silky looked at each other.

“‘That’s it, mother!’ said Silky. ‘That’s why he understood and took it so quick.’

“‘What a noble boy, the other one!’ said Mrs. Meadow.

“‘Ha? well—that was noble enough,’ said Mr. Swift; ‘but he’s a kind of harum-scarum fellow—just as likely to get himself into a scrape to-morrow as to get somebody else out of one to-day.’

“‘That was noble,’ repeated Mrs. Meadow.

“‘Norman has never forgotten it. As I said, he’d lay down body and soul for him. There’s a little pet-dog he has, too,’ Mr. Swift went on, ’that I believe he’d do as much for. A pretty creature! I would have bought it of him, and given a good price for it, but he seemed frightened at the proposal. I believe he keeps the creature here partly for fear he would lose him home.’

“‘Isn’t it against the rules, sir, to have a dog in the factory?’

“‘Entirely!—of course!’ said Mr. Swift; ‘but Mr. Carroll has said it, and so a new rule is made for the occasion. Mr. Carroll was willing to let such a pretty creature be anywhere, I believe.’

“‘I should be afraid he would get hurt.’

“‘So I was, but the dog has sense enough; he gets into no danger, and keeps out of the way like a Christian.’

“‘May we go in, sir, and see Norman for a moment?’

“‘Certainly,’ Mr. Swift said; and himself led the way.

“Through several long rooms and rows of workers went Mr. Swift, and Mrs. Meadow and Silky after him, to the one where they found little Norman. He was standing before some sort of a machine, folding papers and pressing them against rows of pins, that were held all in order and with their points ready, by two pieces of iron in the machine. Norman was not working smartly, and looked already jaded, though it was early in the afternoon. Close at his feet, almost touching him, lay the little white dog. A very little and a most beautiful creature. Soft, white, curling hair, and large silky ears that drooped to the floor, as he lay with his head upon his paws; and two gentle brown eyes looked almost pitifully up at the strangers. He did not get up; nor did Norman look round, till Mrs. Meadow spoke to him.

“‘Hey, my boy, how are you getting on?’ Mr. Swift said first, with a somewhat rough but not unkind slap across the shoulders. Norman shrugged his shoulders, and said,—

“‘Pretty well, thank you, sir,—’ when he heard Mrs. Meadow’s soft, ‘Norman, how do you do?’

“His fingers fell from the row of pin points, and he turned towards her, looking a good deal surprised and a little pleased, but with a very sober face.

“‘Where have you been these two or three days?’

“‘I’ve been here,’ said Norman gravely.

“‘How comes it you haven’t been for Long-Ears’ milk these days?’

“‘I—I couldn’t,’ said Norman.

“‘Why?’

“‘I hadn’t any money—I gave it to mother.’ He spoke low, and with some difficulty.