the flowers in them, of making
five hundred not out at cricket, of doing a problem in Euclid to Mr.
Lasher's satisfaction, of having a collar at the end of the week as
clean as it had been at the beginning, of discovering the way to make a
straight parting in the hair, of not wriggling in bed when Mrs. Lasher
kissed him at night, of many, many other things.

He was at this time a very lonely boy. Until Mr. Pidgen paid his visit
he was most remarkably lonely. After that visit he was never lonely
again.

III

Mr. Pidgen came on a visit to the vicarage three days before Christmas.
Hugh Seymour saw him first from the garden. Mr. Pidgen was standing at
the window of Mr. Lasher's study; he was staring in front of him at the
sheets of light that flashed and darkened and flashed again across the
lawn, at the green cluster of holly-berries by the drive-gate, at the
few flakes of snow that fell, lazily, carelessly, as though they were
trying to decide whether they would make a grand affair of it or not,
and perhaps at the small, grubby boy who was looking at him with one eye
and trying to learn the Collect for the day (it was Sunday) with the
other. Hugh had never before seen any one in the least like Mr. Pidgen.
He was short and round, and his head was covered with tight little
curls. His cheeks were chubby and red and his nose small, his mouth also
very small. He had no chin. He was wearing a bright blue velvet
waistcoat with brass buttons, and over his black shoes there shone white
spats.

Hugh had never seen white spats before. Mr. Pidgen shone with
cleanliness, and he had supremely the air of having been exactly as he
was, all in one piece, years ago. He was like one of the china ornaments
in Mrs. Lasher's drawing-room that the housemaid is told to be so
careful about, and concerning whose destruction Hugh heard her on at
least one occasion declaring, in a voice half tears, half defiance,
"Please, ma'am, it wasn't me. It just slipped of itself!" Mr. Pidgen
would break very completely were he dropped.

The first thing about him that struck Hugh was his amazing difference
from Mr. Lasher. It seemed strange that any two people so different
could be in the same house. Mr. Lasher never gleamed or shone, he would
not break with however violent an action you dropped him, he would
certainly never wear white spats.

Hugh liked Mr. Pidgen at once. They spoke for the first time at the
mid-day meal, when Mr. Lasher said, "More