eset me so I'd
never thought of it. Leastwise, not to go the length I did. If
I'd--But there! What's the use? But one thing's sure. I'll get shut of
that boy, see if I don't. He's well now an' why should I go to
harboring _reptiles_ in my buzzum? Tell me that if ye can! _Reptiles._
That's what he was, a-teasin' an' misleadin' a poor old man into
destruction. Huh! I'll make it warm for him--trust John Gilpin for
that!"

Dawkins had long since departed, unable to bear the old man's
lamentations, and leaving the cup, or pot, of hot tea on the table
beside him. But little Grace couldn't tear herself away. She lingered,
first hoping for the nuts she craved, and later in wonder about the
"_reptile_" he said was in his bosom. There were big books full of
pictures in the library, that Auntie Prin sometimes let her see. She
loved to have them opened on the rug and lie down beside them to study
them. She knew what "reptiles" were. That was the very one of all the
Natural History books with the blue bindings that she liked best, it
was so delightfully crawly and sent such funny little thrills all
through her. If a picture could do that what might not the real thing
do!

"Show it to me, please, Mr. Gilpin. I never saw a reptile in all my
whole life long! Never!"

The farmer had paid scant attention to her chatter; indeed, he
scarcely heard it, his mind being wholly engrossed now with
what his dame would say to him, on his return home; and in his
absent-mindedness he reached out for the drink good Dawkins had
left him and put the pot to his lips taking a great draught.

An instant later the pot flew out of his hand and he sprang to his
feet, clutching frantically at his bosom and yelling as if he were
stung. For the contents of the pot were boiling hot and he had scalded
his throat most painfully.

But wide-eyed little Grace did not understand his wild action, as,
still clutching his shirt front, he hurled the pot far from him. Of
course, the "reptile" was biting! That must be why he screeched so,
and now all her desire for a personal acquaintance with such a
creature vanished. She must get as far away from it as possible before
it appeared on the surface of his smock and, darting doorward, was
just in time to receive the pot and what was left in it upon her curly
head. Down she dropped as if she had been shot, and Dorothy entering
was just in time to see her fall. The scene apparently explained
itself. The angry face of the