Kitty was in the kitchen alone. The maids were in other parts of the house. She was sitting close to a blazing fire on account of her “rheumatics,” and was in a doze. The evening was drawing in. Master Laurence, coming direct from the garden and the fish-pond, burst open the kitchen door with a whoop which made Kitty start from her nap in a fright. Thereupon he set up a loud laugh as the poor old woman held her hand to her side, and panted for breath. In his hand was his pocket-handkerchief, tied like a bundle, in which something living seemed to move and palpitate. They were young frogs in various stages of development.
“Now, Kitty,” said he, “I’ll show you some rare sport!” and taking one of the live frogs out of the handkerchief deliberately threw it into the midst of the glowing fire.
“There, Kitty; did you hear that?” cried he in rapture, as the poor animal uttered a cry of agony almost human, whilst he danced on the hearth like a frantic savage round a sacrificial fire.
“Oh, Master Laurence! Master Laurence! don’t do that—don’t be so cruel!” appealed Kitty, piteously.
But he had drawn another forth, and crying, “Cruel! It’s fun, Kitty—fun!” tore it limb from limb, and threw it piecemeal into the blaze.
“There’s another! and there’s another!” he shouted in glee, as the rest followed in swift succession; and Kitty, shrieking in pain and horror, ran from the kitchen, bringing the cook and housemaid downstairs with her cries.
For the first time in his life Mr. Aspinall administered a sound castigation to his son, regretting that he had not done it earlier.
No more was said of his son’s fine spirit; but, prompt to act, he lost no time in seeking his admission into the Free Grammar School; and either to spare him the long daily walk in tenderness for his health (Ardwick was more than a mile away), or to place him under strict supervision, boarded Laurence with one of the masters.
Yet he gave that master no clue to his son’s besetting sin; so he was left free to tantalise and torment every weaker creature within his orbit, from the schoolmaster’s cat, which he shod with walnut-shells, to the youngest school-boy, whose books he tore and hid, whose hair he pulled, whose cap and frills he soused in the mud.
It was a misfortune for himself and others that his pocket money was more abundant than that of his fellows. Never had the apple-woman or Mrs. Clowes a more lavish customer, or one who distributed his purchases more freely. Boys incapable of discriminating between generosity and profusion dubbed him generous; and that, coupled with his handsome face and spirited bearing which they mistook for courage, brought him partisans.