stared at him, but the longer Mr. Tupman observed the utter
vacancy of the fat boy's face, the more convinced he became that he
either did not know or did not understand anything that had been
happening. Under this impression he said with great fierceness: "What do
you want here?"

[Illustration: "Mr. Tupman, We Are Observed!"

Page 240]

"Supper is ready, sir," was the prompt reply.

"Have you just come here?" inquired Mr. Tupman, with a piercing look.

"Just," replied the fat boy. Mr. Tupman looked at him very hard again
but there was not a wink of his eye or a movement in his face. Mr.
Tupman took the arm of the spinster aunt and walked toward the house.
The fat boy followed behind.

"He knows nothing of what has happened," he whispered.

"Nothing," said the spinster aunt. There was a sound behind them as of
an imperfectly suppressed chuckle. Mr. Tupman turned sharply around.

No, it could not have been the fat boy. There was not a gleam of mirth
or anything but feeding in his whole visage. "He must have been fast
asleep," whispered Mr. Tupman.

"I have not the least doubt of it," replied Miss Rachel, and they both
laughed heartily. Mr. Tupman was wrong. The fat boy for once had not
been fast asleep. He was awake, wide awake to everything that had
happened.

The day following, Joe saw his mistress, Mr. Wardle's aged mother,
sitting in the arbor. Without saying a word he walked up to her, stood
perfectly still and said nothing.

The old lady was easily frightened; most old ladies are, and her first
impression was that Joe was about to do her some bodily harm with a view
of stealing what money she might have with her. She therefore watched
his motions, or rather lack of motions, with feelings of intense terror,
which were in no degree lessened by his finally coming close to her and
shouting in her ear, for she was very deaf, "Missus!"

"Well, Joe," said the trembling old lady, "I am sure I have been a good
mistress to you." He nodded. "You have always been treated very kindly?"
He nodded. "You have never had too much to do?" He nodded. "You have
always had enough to eat?" This last was an appeal to the fat boy's most
sensitive feelings. He seemed touched as he replied, "I know I has."

"Then what do you want to do now?"

"I wants to make yo' flesh creep," replied the boy. This sounded like a
very blood-thirsty method of showing one's gratitude and so the old lady
was