Chops opened the basket. Here were all the morning scraps from the camp, enough to feed a thousand wild-birds, and down they now crowded, swaying and screaming around the maiden as she tossed the pieces in every direction of the compass, that all might have a share. Among them were many of her own particular favourites or pets, and they had special tit-bits which they took from her hands or shoulders and even from her lips. But not all sea-gulls were they, for a sprinkling of rooks flew amongst them, and even warty-headed old carrion-crows and hoodies. These, however, had none of the dash and daring of the more elegant and shapely gulls, nor would they approach so closely to be fed. But the last particle had been distributed and devoured, and the birds went circling farther and farther off, until they seemed to melt away in the gray haze of distance. Then Lotty threw the basket on the benty grass, and sat down for a few moments to look at the sea. It was of a darker blue to-day, because [Illustration: And they had special tit-bits which they took from her hands. LASS. PAGE 92. ] white clouds were casting great shadows down, and the breeze blowing from the east so rippled the surface that it had the appearance of some mighty river rolling on towards the land of the setting sun. 'But w'ich I were a-sayin' of, Miss Lotty, w'en you spoke like Shakespeare, I'm a bit o' a pote myself.' 'Indeed, boy!' 'I isn't so much o' a boy as I looks, Lotty. Lor' bless your innercent soul! I be sixteen an' carried for'ard again. Yes, I be a bit o' a pote, and 'as my dreams, just as the Immortal Willum had his'n.' 'And what may your dreams be, Chops?' 'Oh, I dreams, Miss Lotty, wot I du's'n't 'ardly tell you.' 'I've known you for long, long ages, Chops, so you needn't mind what you tell me.' 'Yes, Lotty, for long, long ages. Lor'! don't I remember, w'en you was a wee kinchin, a-carryin' o' you on my back, an' sometimes a-buryin' o' you, kickin' legs an' all, among the 'ay or among the 'eather.' 'But that isn't your dreams, Chops?' 'No, miss; but I've often dreamt when a-carryin' o' you on this 'ere back o' mine that w'en you growed hup, and w'en I growed hup an' I'd saved a bit o' money like--you--you won't be angry, will you, Miss Lotty?' 'No, no, Chops; but it is nearly time for rehearsal, so be quick.' 'That I might lead you to the haltar, miss.' Lotty burst into a childish fit of hearty laughter. Then, afraid she might have hurt his feelings, this strange infant prodigy grew suddenly serious, and patted Chops's brown, fat fingers. 'You're a good boy,' she said, 'but dreadfully foolish and funny. You won't mind me laughing, Chops, but you do look droll like that. Have you written some verses, Chops?' 'Oh yes. I began a whole pome, an' some day I'll mebbe finish it, like the Immortal Willum finished his'n.' 'And how does it begin?' 'It begins--ahem!--ahem!' 'What! begins "Hem, hem"?'