be warm in bed, may draw the clothes over his head,
may think himself comfortable and safe, but that young man will soon creep
and creep his way to him and tear him open. I am a-keeping the young man
from harming of you at the present moment with great difficulty. Now what
do you say?"

I said I would get him the file and what food I could, and would come to
him early in the morning.

"Say, Lord strike me dead, if you don't!"

I said so and he took me down. I faltered a good night, and he turned to
go, walking as if he were numb and stiff. When I saw him turn to look once
more at me, I made the best use of my legs, having a terrible fear of him,
and of the young man, and I ran home without once stopping.

I found the forge shut up and Joe alone in the kitchen. The minute I
raised the latch, he said:

"Mrs. Joe has been out a dozen times looking for you, Pip, and she's out
now, and what's more, she's got Tickler with her."

At this dismal intelligence I looked with great depression at the fire.
Tickler was a wax-ended piece of cane, worn smooth by contact with my
tickled frame.

"She sot down," said Joe, "and she got up, and she made a grab at Tickler,
and she rampaged out. Now she's a-coming! Go behind the door, old chap!"

I took the advice, but my sister, throwing the door wide open, and finding
an obstruction behind it, guessed the cause, and applied Tickler to its
further investigation.

"Where have you been, you young monkey?" she asked, stamping her foot;
"Tell me directly what you've been doing to wear me away with fret and
fright and worrit?"

"I have only been in the church-yard," said I, crying and rubbing myself,
but my answer did not satisfy my sister, who kept on scolding and applying
Tickler to my person until she was obliged to see to the tea things.
Though I was very hungry, I dared not eat my bread and butter, for I felt
that I must have something in reserve to take my dreadful acquaintance in
case I could find nothing else. Therefore, at a moment when no one was
looking, I put a hunk of bread and butter down the leg of my trousers. Joe
thought I had eaten it in one gulp, which greatly distressed him, and I
was borne off and dosed with tar water.

Conscience is a dreadful thing when it accuses man or boy. The guilty
knowledge that I was going to rob Mrs. Joe, united to the necessity of
keeping one hand on my bread and butter as I sat or moved about, almost
drove me out of my mind, but as i