“‘Average,’ said Mr. Swift;—‘as good as the average. What, you’re going to adopt him?’
“‘No, sir,’ said Mrs. Meadow; ‘I wanted to ask a few questions about him.’
“‘I don’t know any harm of him,’ said Mr. Swift. ‘He’s about like the common. Not particularly strong in the head, nor anywhere else, for that matter; but he is a good-feeling child. Yes—now I remember. It’s as much as a year ago, that I was mad with him one day, and was going to give the careless little rascal a strapping for something,—I forget what; we must keep them in order, Mrs. Meadow, let them be what they will;—I was going to give it to him, for something,—and a bold brave fellow in the same room, about twice as big and six times as strong as Norman, offered to take it and spare him. I didn’t care; it answered my purpose of keeping order just as well that Bill Bollings should have it as Norman Finch, if he had a mind;—and ever since that time Finch has been ready to lay down his body and soul for Bollings, if it could do him any service. He’s a good-hearted boy, I do suppose.’
“Mrs. Meadow and Silky looked at each other.
“‘That’s it, mother!’ said Silky. ‘That’s why he understood and took it so quick.’
“‘What a noble boy, the other one!’ said Mrs. Meadow.
“‘Ha? well—that was noble enough,’ said Mr. Swift; ‘but he’s a kind of harum-scarum fellow—just as likely to get himself into a scrape to-morrow as to get somebody else out of one to-day.’
“‘That was noble,’ repeated Mrs. Meadow.
“‘Norman has never forgotten it. As I said, he’d lay down body and soul for him. There’s a little pet-dog he has, too,’ Mr. Swift went on, ’that I believe he’d do as much for. A pretty creature! I would have bought it of him, and given a good price for it, but he seemed frightened at the proposal. I believe he keeps the creature here partly for fear he would lose him home.’
“‘Isn’t it against the rules, sir, to have a dog in the factory?’