MAKING AMENDS.
WHEN Mrs. Glanville called at her neighbour's house on the following afternoon, she found that Tim was not at home; but she saw Mr. Shuttleworth and explained her mission to him. He had not the faintest idea where his nephew had gone, he informed her, and greatly regretted his absence. "For I should like him to be friendly with your young people," he said cordially.
"I thought perhaps I should have persuaded him to return with me, and make their acquaintance now," Mrs. Glanville replied. "But, since he is not here and you do not know what time he will be back, will you let him come to tea with us to-morrow? Please let him come early so as to spend a long afternoon with us."
"Certainly," Mr. Shuttleworth agreed readily. "You are very kind and I have much pleasure in accepting your invitation for Tim." And thus it was settled.
Meanwhile Tim had gone on a secret errand. Since his interview with Kitty, he had been possessed with a strong desire to make good the bad turn he had done her, as far as lay in his power, by giving her another rabbit. With that idea he had asked the butcher boy, at the back door earlier in the day, if he knew any one who had rabbits for sale, and the butcher boy had told him of a shop, kept by an old man named Jacob Dottin, in a back street of the town, where all sorts of animals and birds might be purchased. So whilst Mrs. Glanville was interviewing his uncle, Tim was making for the abode of Mr. Dottin. An obliging policeman had shown the little boy the way to go; and, at length, after traversing several narrow, dirty streets, he found himself before the shop he wanted.
Tom stood for a few minutes gazing into the window at rows of cages containing birds of all sorts and descriptions, and, so engrossed was he in watching them that he did not notice the shop door open, and he started when a voice at his side addressed him:—
"Would you like to come and have a look at my little family, young gentleman."
Tim turned quickly and looked at the speaker—a spare, bent-shouldered old man, with grizzled hair which was so thick, as was his beard, that, with a cap drawn far over his forehead, but little of his face was visible except a pair of sharp, black eyes and a hook nose. Tim smiled involuntarily, for he thought the old man was like an animal himself, an animal that was a mixture of a baboon and a parrot with his hairy face, and hook nose, and claw-like fingers, which he twisted together as he blinked and smiled in what he evidently intended to be an amiable manner.
"Mr. Tottin?" said Tim, inquiringly.
"Aye—Jacob Dottin, young gentleman, at your service," was the response.