would be ill."

"But I'm sure that there are some in his coat, uncle," I said, "for if
you watch him when he's lying on the hearth-rug to-night, every now and
then he jumps up and snaps at them, and bites the place."

"Shush! yes, my boy," he whispered; "but don't talk about it. Your aunt
is so particular. It's a secret between us."

I couldn't help smiling at him, and after a moment or two he smiled at
me, and then patted me on the shoulder.

"Don't do anything to annoy your aunt, my boy," he said; "I wouldn't
play with Nap if I were you."

"I'll try not to, uncle," I said; "but he will come and coax me to play
with him sometimes."

"H'm! yes," said my uncle thoughtfully, "and it does do him good, poor
dog. He eats too much, and gets too fat for want of exercise. Suppose
you only play with him when your aunt goes out for a walk."

"Very well, uncle," I said, and then he shook hands with me, and gave me
half a crown.

I couldn't help it, I was obliged to spend that half-crown in something
I had been wanting for weeks. It was a large crossbow that hung up in
the toy-shop window in Streatham, and that bow had attracted my
attention every time I went out.

To some boys a crossbow would be only a crossbow, but to me it meant
travels in imagination all over the world. I saw myself shooting apples
off boys' heads, transfixing eagles in their flight, slaying wild
beasts, and bringing home endless trophies of the chase, so at the first
opportunity I was off to the shop, and with my face glowing with
excitement and delight I bought and took home the crossbow.

"Hallo, Nat!" said Uncle Joseph. "Why, what's that--a crossbow?"

"Yes, uncle; isn't it a beauty?" I cried excitedly.

"Well, yes, my boy," he said; "but, but--how about your aunt? Suppose
you were to break a window with that, eh? What should we do?"

"But I won't shoot in that direction, uncle," I promised.

"Or shoot out Jane's or Cook's eye? It would be very dreadful, my boy."

"Oh, yes, uncle," I cried; "but I will be so careful, and perhaps I may
shoot some of the birds that steal the cherries."

"Ah! yes, my boy, so you might," he said rubbing his hands softly. "My
best bigarreaus. Those birds are a terrible nuisance, Nat, that they
are. You'll be careful, though?"

"Yes, I'll be careful, uncle," I said; and he went away nodding and
smiling, while I went off to Clapham Common to try the bow and the short
thick arrows supplied therewi