osker!" he enthusiastically exclaimed, as the hideously
unprepossessing little mongrel stood on his hind legs and yelped in
excited begging.

"Hullo, Andrew! Don't bust! Who's that you had with you?--(I had
turned a corner)--a new boarder, I suppose? Rather an old piece!"

"Yes," said Andrew. "Her hair is a little white, but she ain't sour
and stuck up."

"A chance for you to hang your hat up, Jake," said Larry.

"No, thanks! I'm cautious of them old maids. If you say a pleasant
word to 'em they can't be shook off, and might have you up for breach
of promise like with Tom Dunstan."

"I suppose there is a danger, you being so fascinating," chuckled the
butcher as I went inside, with a premonition that should it come to
taking sides in the Clay household, if avoidable I would not be on
Uncle Jake's.

"Who is Uncle Jake?" said Carry in response to my inquiry, as she
prepared four o'clock tea; "he's Uncle Jake, that's what he is, and
enough for me too, that he is. The old swab wants hanging up by the
beard."

"Yes, but what place does he hold in the house?"

"Place! that of walking round poking his nose in everywhere and
growling about things that don't concern him. Mrs Clay keeps
him--gives him fifteen shillings a-week--because he's her brother, and
you'd think he owned everything. If you want to know what he is, he's
a terribly bad example to Andrew. _He's_ the greatest clumsy,
lumbering, dirty lump (oh, you should see his clothes, what they are
like to wash, and the only way to keep him clean would be to stuff him
in a glass case!), but for all that he's a very fair kid. You can't
expect much of boys, you know, and have to be thankful for any good
points at all. O Lord!" she here exclaimed, looking out a window,
where along a path through the orchard she descried approaching a fine
buxom dame in a fashionably cut dress, "here's Mrs Bray in full sail.
I suppose she saw the 'busman leaving you here to-day, and her
curiosity couldn't stand any longer without coming on a tour of
inspection."

"Who is Mrs Bray?"

"She won't let you overlook who she is, and what she owns, and what
she '_done_,' you'll soon hear it. She's the most inquisitive
blow-hard I ever came across."

Dawn now appeared and invited me to afternoon tea, which was a
friendly and hospitable meal spread on a big table on a back verandah,
so enclosed by creepers and pot-plants and little awnings leading in
various directions as to be in reality