‘Nipper, Nipper, is it you?’ he shouted, and regardless of his smart, clean flannel suit picked me up and positively hugged me in a transport of delight. Then he examined me all over to make sure that I was not hurt, and after that I was only too glad to be allowed to crawl into his pocket and feel that there, at any rate, I was safe. The worst of it came after breakfast, for I was too filthy to be able to clean myself. Such a miserable, draggled little object I was, black as any sweep! My master got a basin of warm water and washed me all over—a process which I remember I strongly objected to, and resented by nipping his fingers sharply. But he was firm, and presently I was back again in my cage, which was placed before the kitchen fire, and Jack himself kept watch over me until, once more dry and clean, I was fit to return to the bowling-alley. CHAPTER IV A DAY IN RAT LAND It was about this time that an unaccustomed quiet seemed to be settling upon the Hall and the demesne. There were less people about, no visitors, and some familiar faces among the servants were missed. I had never seen much of the Squire himself, but in these days he seldom came into the bowling-alley at all, as he had been used to do in the earlier days of my captivity. Even the boys seemed to have grown quieter. They laughed less often, and frequently I saw them talking to one another with grave faces. At times I had an uneasy conviction of something wrong, but it was only a passing impression, for I, at least, never suffered in any way. Every fine day Jack took me out of doors, and I had a scamper in the clump of shrubs to which, ever since my narrow escape from the terrier, I was careful to confine myself. And as for food, no squirrel could have fared better. My master was always bringing me fresh delicacies. One day it would be a cob of Indian corn, which grew to perfection under the south wall of the kitchen garden, and which I enjoyed vastly, ripping off the thick green husks and pulling the kernels out one by one. Another morning he would pick me a fine summer apple, its sunny side delicately tinged with streaky red, while he was always discovering new nuts for my delectation. Once, I remember, I made myself quite ill with the rich greasy kernel of a huge Brazil-nut. A very pet delicacy of mine in which I was often indulged was a piece of hard ship’s biscuit. There were few other eatables which I enjoyed so much. Now and then I was given a morsel of banana, and perhaps my greatest treat of all was a few of the black, oily seeds of the sunflower.