He started to run in the direction of Aunt Maggie's voice; but Egbert recalled him with a very mysterious and compelling "H'st!" and wag of the head. "Was that your Aunt Maggie in the hall with you just now?" Egbert inquired. A sudden recollection came to Percival. "You mean before tea? Was that you?" "What she make you put your cap on for, and say 'I hold'? That was a funny bit, that was." "Why, I don't know," said Percival. "Was that you up on the bridge?" Egbert did not answer the question. "You ask her," he said, "an' tell me. Odd bit, that was." "Yes, I will," Percival agreed. "I say, I must go. What's your name, if you please?" "Mr. Unt. Run along; you're a nice little chap; I like you." "I like you, too," said Percival, very interested in this strange character. "I'm sorry I thought you were a clown. Good-by, Mr. Unt. I say, there is my Aunt Maggie! Isn't this a 'normous house?" and he scampered brightly to the sound of Aunt Maggie's voice. "Abode of tyrangs," said Mr. Hunt, moving swiftly in the opposite direction. "Boil um!" CHAPTER II FOLLOWS A FROG AND FINDS A TADPOLE I The acquaintance with slave Egbert was very shortly renewed. The afternoon of the Friday that was to see the arrival of the Burdons at the Old Manor brought also a threshing-engine up the village street--a snorting and enormous thing that fetched Percival rushing to the gate and drew him after it and kept him in charmed attendance until "Post Offic" was half a mile behind. Here the engine stopped, and the men who accompanied it setting themselves to a deliberate meal, Percival turned himself into a horse that had escaped from its stable and was recaptured and began to trot himself home. He was in the lane that strikes out of the highroad towards Burdon Old Manor when his quick eye caught sight of a frog in the grass-grown hedge-side and "Whoa!" cried Percival and changed from escaped horse to ardent frog-hunter. The sturdiest frog, it proved to be, a big, solid fellow and wonderfully nimble at great jumps when Percival was found to be in pursuit. He pressed it hotly; it bounded amain. He laughed and followed--it was here--it was there--it was lost--it was found--it was gone again. He grew stubborn and vexed in the chase. A frown stood on his moist brow. He began to breathe hotly. The frog perceived the change. It lost its wits. It dashed from cover, made with wild bounds across the road, was closely followed, and lived to tell the frightful tale by intervention of a shout before it, a stumble behind it, and the barest pulling up of the Manor wagonette within a yard of fallen Percival.