“Dear, to be sure! To think o’ that now,” said Alice, whose tongue was wont to wag pretty freely. “Wasn’t it terr’ble lonesome for ye?” “I didn’t ever feel it so,” returned Adam, “there’s a deal o’ company in the woods, and company as don’t want talkin’ to,” he added with a laugh. Mrs. Cluett now proceeded to enter into practical details. Adam’s bundle contained, it seemed, all his worldly goods, a large wardrobe having been considered unnecessary in Tewley Warren, and such few sticks of furniture as the old man possessed having been purchased by his successor. He was therefore unhampered by any great need for space in his new quarters; yet he looked round the attic assigned to him with a clouded face, noting which, his mistress sarcastically inquired if he didn’t find it big enough. “Oh, ’tis big enough,” he returned; “big enough if a man can breathe in it.” He opened the tiny casement, and looked out:-- “I can see one tree,” he exclaimed, in a tone of relief. “And what mid ye want with trees?” she inquired. “You won’t need to be lookin’ out much when ye’ve a-had a proper good day’s work.” And thereupon, informing him that it was time to “sarve pigs,” and directing him as to the whereabouts of the meal-bucket, she descended to her own long neglected wash-tub. Alice, however, still lingered in the passage, and observed that, as Adam took off his coat preparatory to setting to work, he paused, with an odd little laugh to himself. “I was near forgetting you,” said he, peering into one of its capacious pockets and apparently addressing something inside. “What have ye got there?” inquired Alice. Adam carefully hung up the coat on a nail, thrust his hand into the pocket aforesaid, and produced a very small rabbit--a little furry ball with downy semi-transparent ears and bright beady eyes. “I had to bring he along of I,” he explained, as he stroked the little creature which sat quite contentedly in his brown palm. “How did you make en so tame?” asked Alice. “I’ve had en nigh upon a week now. ’Tis thanks to I he warn’t made a stoat’s breakfast on. They stoats--they be terr’ble varmint. I be always on the look-out for ’em. Well, this here little chap was bein’ dragged along by a big ’un when I chanced to spy the pair of ’em. I made an end of Maister Stoat and I did take the little ’un home-along. He couldn’t feed hisself, poor little thing, but we made shift, didn’t us, little ’un? There, he can drink out of a teaspoon so sensible as a Christian.” “Do ’ee let I give en a drap o’ milk now,” cried Alice eagerly. The little rabbit justified his owner’s proud assertion, and after refreshing himself in the manner indicated, was comfortably stowed away in a hay-lined basket. “I were pure glad to bring he along of I,” said Adam, for the nonce communicative; “he’ll mind me o’ the woods, d’ye see. And I’ve a-brought these, too.”