“I thought that I knew every metal that grows,” she said, as Alice opened her languid hand for such a trifle; “I always clean our forks and spoons, and my mother’s three silver teapots. But I never beheld any metal of such a colour as this has got, before. Can you tell me what this metal is?”
“I ought to know something, but I know nothing,” Alice answered, wearily; “my father is acknowledged to be full of learning. Every minute I expect him.”
“No doubt he will tell us, when he comes. But I am so impatient. And it looks like the key of some wonderful lock, that nothing else would open. May I ask what it is? Come, at least say that.”
“It will give me the greatest delight to know,” said Alice, with a yawn, “what the thing is; because it will please you, darling. And it certainly does look curious.”
Upon this question Mrs. Bottler, like a good woman, referred them to her learned husband, who came in now from his morning drive, scraping off the frozen snow, and accompanied, of course by Polly.
“Polly’s doll, that’s what we call it,” he said; “the little maid took such a liking to it, that Bonny was forced to give it to her. Where the boy got it, the Lord only knows. The Lord hath given him the gift of finding a’most everything. He hath it both in his eyes and hands. I believe that boy’d die Lord Mayor of London, if he’d only come out of his hole in the hill.”
“But cannot we see him, Mr. Bottler?” asked Mabel; “when he is finding these things, does he lose himself?”
“Not he, Miss!” replied the man of bacon. “He knows where he is, go where he will. You can hear him a-whistling down the lane now. He knoweth when I’ve a been easing of the pigs, sharper than my own steel do. Chittlings, or skirt, or milt, or trimmings—oh, he’s the boy for a rare pig’s fry—it don’t matter what the weather is. I’d as lief dine with him as at home a’most.”
“Oh, let me go and see him at the door,” cried Mabel; “I am so fond of clever boys.” So out she ran without waiting for leave, and presently ran back again. “Oh, what a nice boy!” she exclaimed to Alice; “so very polite, and he has got such eyes! But I’m sadly afraid he’ll be impudent when he grows much older.”
“Aha, Miss, aha, Miss! you are right enough there,” observed Mr. Bottler, with a crafty grin. “He ain’t over bashful already, perhaps.”