"Which the little beast wor my friend!" he gasped amid his tears-- "An' he wor Kitty's friend too! Kitty's cryin' 'erself sick, same as me! I'd 'ad 'im from a pup--Kitty carried 'im in 'er apron when 'e was a week old,--he loved me--yes 'e did!--an' 'e slept in my weskit iviry night of 'is life!--an' he 'adn't a fault in 'im, all lovin' an' true!--an' now 'e's gone--an'--an'-I HATE the quality up at the Manor--yes I do!--I HATE 'em!--an' if Miss Vancourt 'adn't never come 'ome, my doggie 'ad been livin' now, an' we'd all a' bin 'appy!" Walden patted the boy's rough towzled head gently, and thought of his faithful 'Nebbie.' It would have been mere hypocrisy to preach resignation to Bob, when he, the Reverend John, knew perfectly well that if his own canine comrade had been thus cruelly slain, he also would have 'hated the quality.' "Look here, Bob," he said at last,--"I know just how you feel! It's just as bad as bad can be. But try and be a man, won't you? You can't bring the poor little creature back to life again,--and it's no use frightening your mother with all this grief for what cannot be helped. Then there's poor Kitty--SHE 'hates the quality';--her little heart is sore and full of bad feelings--all for the sake of you and your dog, Bob! She's giving her mother no end of trouble up at the Manor, crying and fretting--suppose you go and see her? Talk it over together, like two good children, and try if you can't comfort each other. What do you say?" Bob rose from beside the chair where he had flung himself on his knees when Walden had entered his mother's cottage,--and rubbed his knuckles hard into his eyes with a long and dismal sniff. "I'll try, sir!" he said chokingly, and then suddenly seizing 'Passon's' hand, he kissed it with boyish fervour, caught up his cap and ran out. Walden stood for a moment inert,--there was an uncomfortable tightness in his throat. "Poor lad!" he said to himself,--"He is suffering as much in his way as older people suffer in theirs,--perhaps even more,--because to the young, injustice always seems strange--to the old it has become customary and natural!" He sighed,--and with a pleasant word or two to Mrs. Keeley, who waited at her door for him to come out, and who thanked him profusely for coming to 'hearten up the boy,' he went on his usual round through the village, uncomfortably conscious that perhaps his first impressions respecting Miss Vancourt's home-coming were correct,--and that it might have been better for the peace and happiness of all the simple inhabitants of St. Rest, if she had never come.