He's going to be a caterpillar crusher."

I felt as if I should have liked to be a boy crusher, and have run at
him with my fists clenched, and drubbed him till he roared for mercy,
but I did not stir.

"Then what's he doing here?" said Courtenay in a sour, morose tone of
voice. "He ought to be among the cabbages, and not here."

This was as if they were talking to themselves, but meant for me to
hear.

"Old Browny was afraid to put him there for fear he'd begin wolfing
them. I caught him as soon as he came. He got loose, and I found him
in the peach-house eating the peaches, but I dropped on to him with the
cane and made the beggar howl."

"Old Browny ought to look after him," said Courtenay.

"Don't I tell you he ran away. I expect Browny will have to put a
dog-collar and chain on him, and drive a stake down in the
kitchen-garden to keep him from eating the cabbages when he's
caterpillaring. These workhouse boys are such hungry beggars."

"Put a muzzle on him like they do on a ferret," said Courtenay; and then
they laughed together.

"Hasn't he got a rum phiz?" said Philip, who, I soon found, was the
quicker with his tongue.

"Yes; don't talk so loud: he'll hear you. Just like a monkey," said
Courtenay; and they laughed again.

"I say, is he going to stop?" said Courtenay.

"I suppose so. They want a boy to scrape the shovels and light the
fires, and go up the hothouse chimneys to clear out the soot. He's just
the sort for that."

"He'll have to polish Old Browny's boots, too."

"Yes; and wash Mother Browny's stockings. I say, Court, don't he look a
hungry one?"

"Regular wolf," said Courtenay; and there was another laugh.

"I say," said Courtenay, "I don't believe he's a workhouse."

"He is, I tell you; Browny went and bought him yesterday. They sell 'em
cheap. You can have as many as you like almost for nothing. They're
glad to get rid of 'em."

"I wonder what they'd say to poor old Shock!" I thought to myself.
"I'm glad he isn't here."

"I don't care," said Courtenay; "I think he's a London street boy. He
looks like it from the cut of his jib."

I paid not the slightest heed, but my heart beat fast and I could feel
the perspiration standing all over my face.

"I don't care; he's a pauper. I wonder what Old Browny will feed him
on."

"Skilly," said Courtenay; and the boys laughed again. All at once I
felt a push with a foot, and if I had not suddenly stiffened my arms I