"He lived to a great age," answered Granny, adjusting her spectacles and resuming her knitting, "and was loved and honoured by all. And when he died he was beautifully stuffed and put into a glass case."
"I wish he hadn't died, my Granny," said the little beggar mournfully, unconsoled by the honour paid to Rover's remains. Then, with a sudden change of thought: "Can Jack swim like he did, I wonder."
"That I can't say, my darling," Granny replied, intent on her work.
"I think I had better teach him," the little beggar said, looking very wise; "'cause if you, or Miss Beggarley, or me, or Briggs felled into the water like Eliza, Jacky could bring us out, and save us from being drownded."
"Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine," murmured Granny, busy counting the stitches on her sock, and too much occupied to pay attention to what Chris said. "Twenty-nine! Now, how have I gone wrong? Miss Baggerley, my dear, would you be so kind as to see if you can find out my mistake?"
"I know!" exclaimed Chris, as Granny handed me her work; "I know very well what I will do. I'll—," and he stopped short.
"What will you do, my pet?" asked Granny, a little absently, watching me as I put her knitting right.
But Chris shook his head. "A surprise!" he said, and closed his lips firmly.
I felt that it would be safer for the interests of all to probe the matter further, and was about to do so, when there was a tap at the door, and Briggs entered.
"Master Chris," she said, "it's time for your walk."