'And who is Jim?'
'Jim is waiting for me, Jim is, he's sittin' on the gate; you come and I'll show you him.'
He led me down the avenue as fast as his little legs could carry him, and there on a side gate that led into some fields was a lad about fifteen. He got down directly he saw me, and I noticed that he was a cripple and had a crutch by his side.
'Are you Jim?' I asked.
'Yes, mum!'
'Don't you know that Roddy ought to be at school? It isn't right of you to encourage him to play truant.'
Jim laughed. 'He's such a little 'un, he is.'
And then we drifted into talk. Jim told me he lived with his uncle, who was a cobbler, but he himself had no occupation except that of gathering wild flowers, and taking them into the market town near, twice a week. I found to my surprise that he could not read.
'I was on my back for years when I might 'a had my schoolin', and when I was able to get about with my crutch I was that 'shamed to go, being such a big 'un, and such a dunce. Uncle Sam, he has a tried to teach me, but he has a awful temper, and says I'm that slow I aggrewate him into fits.'
'How I wish I could teach you!' I exclaimed; 'wouldn't you like to learn?'