When he got home, he found that Gundra was the centre of interest. Seated on a settle beside Lucy, he was chatting cheerfully to the little girl, answering her innumerable questions in his queer, broken English.

“He is such a nice little boy,” she whispered to Martin. “I am so glad you brought him.”

Mrs. Gollop, in high good humour, was full of his praises. She related how eagerly he had made himself useful, scouring her pots and pans, peeling potatoes, and even showing her how to cook rice in the Indian way.

She had made him a shakedown in a cupboard under the stairs.

“It’s a dark place,” she said, “and I won’t say but he’ll have mice for company, but it was the only place I could think of, and when I’d swept it out he was quite pleased with it. It’s very stuffy this hot weather, but I told him to leave the door open when he goes to bed, or he’ll be stifled. He’s a willing little fellow, that I will say.”

The next day was Sunday, but Martin rose at his usual hour, because he had to make a round with fresh hot rolls before the day was his own. He noticed as he passed the cupboard under the stairs that the door, which had been open when he said good-night to the boy, was now nearly closed.

“Well, let it be,” said Susan, upon his telling her. “Them Indians live in a hot country, by all that’s said, and he won’t mind the stuffiness. And we won’t wake him; a long sleep will do him good, poor lamb.”

Martin cleaned his boots and ate his breakfast; then, as he was about to start for the shop, he thought he would peep into the cupboard and see if the boy was awake.

He listened at the door. There was no sound from within. Then very cautiously he pulled the door towards him and looked in. The narrow cupboard with its sloping roof was in black darkness, and for a few moments his eyes could not distinguish even the shakedown on the floor. But presently he was able to discern its dim outlines, and then he started and hurriedly entered.

Half a minute later he rushed back into the living-room, where Mrs. Gollop was cleaning the hearth.