he was so totally unfitted
by nature and education. The regulations for, lack of punctuality
were very strict. The first offence was a fine, and the third absolute
dismissal. Jack was generally at the door before the first sound of the
bell; but one day, two or three months after his arrival on the island,
he was delayed by the ill-nature of others. His hat had been blown away
by a sudden gust of wind just as he reached the forge. "Stop it!" cried
the child, running after it. Just as he reached it, an apprentice coming
up the street gave the hat a kick and sent it on; another did the same,
and then another. This was very amusing to all save Jack, who, out
of breath and angry, felt a strong desire to weep, for he knew that a
positive hatred toward him was hidden under all this apparent jesting.
In the meantime the bell was sounding its last strokes, and the
child was compelled to relinquish the useless pursuit. He was utterly
wretched, for it was no small expense to buy a new cap; he must write to
his mother for money, and D'Argenton would read the letter. This was
bad enough; but the consciousness that he was disliked among his
fellow-workmen troubled him still more.

Some persons need tenderness as plants need heat to sustain life. Jack
was one of these, and he asked himself sadly why no one loved him in his
new abiding-place. Just as he arrived at the open door, he heard
quick breathing behind him, a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and
turning, he saw a smiling, hideous face, while a rough hand extended the
missing cap.

Where had he seen that face? "I have it!" he cried at last; but at that
moment there was no time to renew his acquaintance with the pedler,
to whom, and to whose fragile stock of goods, he had given such timely
shelter on that showery summer's day.

The child's spirits rose, he was less sad, less lonely. While his hands
were busy with his monotonous toil, his mind was occupied with thoughts
of the past: he saw again the lovely country road near his mother's
house; he heard the low rumbling of the doctor's gig, and felt the fresh
breeze from the river, even there in the stifling atmosphere of the
machine-shop.

That evening he searched for Belisaire, but in vain; again the next day,
but could learn nothing of him; and by degrees the uncouth face that had
revived so many beautiful memories, in the child's sick heart faded and
died away, and he was again left alone.

The boy was far from a fav