William’s spirits sank again.
“Snakes one and six—and—and, see here, I’ll give you a baby tortoise jus’ to stop you worrying about that hanimal.”
William walked home proudly carrying his baby tortoise in both hands.
Miss Amelia Blake was in the drawing-room. She was speaking tearfully to his mother. “And I leave his saucer of milk out every night and I call him every night, my poor Luky. I can hardly sleep with thinking of my darling, perhaps hungry and needing me.... William, if you see any traces of my Luky you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
And William, oppressed by the weight of his guilty secret, muttered something inaudible and went to watch the effect of his new pet upon Jumble.
That night the plaintive cry arose again to his room.
“Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Luk-ee-ee-ee! Luky, Luky. Where are you, darling? Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Lukee-ee-ee-ee.”
*****
William’s conscience, though absolved of the crime of murder, felt heavy as Miss Amelia Blake called her lost pet mournfully night after night.
Now William’s conscience was a curious organ. It needed a great deal to rouse it. When roused it demanded immediate action. He took one of his white rats round to Miss Amelia Blake, and Miss Amelia Blake screamed and got on to the table. He even rose to supreme heights of self-denial, and offered her his baby tortoise, but she refused it.