"'Why so?' said Cyrus' father; 'was not the little coat most proper for the little boy, and the large coat for the great boy?' 'Yes, sir,' answered Cyrus; 'but my master told me I was not made judge to examine which coat best fitted either of the boys, but to decide whether it was just that the great boy should take away the coat of the little one against his consent; and therefore I decided unjustly, and deserved to be punished.'" Just as the story was finished, they were surprised to see a little ragged boy come running up to them, with a bundle of clothes under his arm. His eyes were black, as if he had been severely beaten, his nose was swelled, his shirt was bloody, and his waistcoat did but just hang upon his back, so much was it torn. He came running up to Tommy, and threw down the bundle before him, saying, "Here master, take your clothes again; and I wish they had been at the bottom of the ditch I pulled you out of, instead of upon my back; but I never will put such frippery on again as long as I have breath in my body." "What is the matter?" said Mr Barlow, who perceived that some unfortunate accident had happened in consequence of Tommy's present. "Sir," answered the little boy, "my little master here was going to beat me, because I would not fetch his ball. Now, as to the matter of that, I would have brought his ball with all my heart, if he had but asked me civilly. But though I am poor, I am not bound to be his slave, as they say black William is; and so I would not; upon which little master here was jumping over the hedge to lick me; but, instead of that, he soused into the ditch, and there he lay rolling about till I helped him out; and so he gave me these clothes here, all out of good-will; and I put them on, like a fool as I was, for they are all made of silk, and look so fine, that all the little boys followed me, and hallooed as I went; and Jack Dowset threw a handful of dirt at me, and dirtied me all over. 'Oh!' says I, 'Jacky, are you at that work?'--and with that I hit him a good thump, and sent him roaring away. But Billy Gibson and Ned Kelly came up, and said I looked like a Frenchman; and so we began fighting, and I beat them till they both gave out; but I don't choose to be hallooed after wherever I go, and to look like a Frenchman; and so I have brought master his clothes again." Mr Barlow asked the little boy where his father lived; and he told him that his father lived about two miles off, across the common, and at the end of Runny Lane; on which Mr Barlow told Harry that he would send the poor man some broth and victuals if he would carry it when it was ready. "That I will," said Harry, "if it were five times as far." So Mr Barlow went into the house to give orders about it.