All our hearts were full of pity for the outcast. He was, indeed, a spectacle to shock the benevolent. Even the prison people, Oswald thought, or the man he took the cake from, would have felt their fierceness fade if they could have seen him then. He was not in prison dress. Oswald would have rather liked to see that, but he remembered that it was safer for the man that he had found means to rid himself of the felon's garb. He wore a gray knickerbocker suit, covered with mud. The lining of his hat must have been blue, and it had run down his face in streaks like the gentleman in Mr. Kipling's story. He was wetter than I have ever seen anyone out of a bath or the sea. 'Come into the kitchen,' said Oswald; 'you can drip there quite comfortably. The floor is brick.' He followed us into the kitchen. 'Are you kids alone in the house?' he said. 'Yes,' said Oswald. 'Then I suppose it's no good asking if you've got a drop of brandy?' 'Not a bit,' said Dicky. [Illustration: '"Come into the kitchen," said Oswald, "you can drip there quite comfortably."'--Page 52] 'Whisky would do, or gin--any sort of spirit,' said the smeared stranger hopefully. 'Not a drop,' said Oswald; 'at least, I'll look in the medicine cupboard. And, I say, take off your things and put them in the sink. I'll get you some other clothes. There are some of Mr. Sandal's.' The man hesitated. 'It'll make a better disguise,' said Oswald in a low, significant whisper, and turned tactfully away, so as not to make the stranger feel awkward. Dicky got the clothes, and the stranger changed in the back-kitchen. The only spirit Oswald could find was spirits of salts, which the stranger said was poison, and spirits of camphor. Oswald gave him some of this on sugar; he knows it is a good thing when you have taken cold. The stranger hated it. He changed in the back-kitchen, and while he was doing it we tried to light the kitchen fire, but it would not; so Dicky went up to ask Alice for some matches, and finding the girls had not gone to bed as ordered, but contrarily dressed themselves, he let them come down. And then, of course, there was no reason why they should not light the fire. They did. When the unfortunate one came out of the back-kitchen he looked quite a decent chap, though still blue in patches from the lining of his hat. Dicky whispered to me what a difference clothes made. He made a polite though jerky bow to the girls, and Dora said: 'How do you do? I hope you are quite well.' 'As well as can be expected,' replied the now tidy outcast, 'considering what I've gone through.' 'Tea or cocoa?' said Dora. 'And do you like cheese or cold bacon best?' 'I'll leave it to you entirely,' he answered. And he added, without a pause, 'I'm sure I can trust you.' 'Indeed you can,' said Dora earnestly; 'you needn't be a bit afraid. You're perfectly safe with us.' He opened his eyes at this. 'He didn't expect such kindness,' Alice whispered. 'Poor man! he's quite overcome.'