Tom, Dot and Talking Mouse | Page 4

and
chairs and things all over the top of it. Uncle said he was agoing to
leave me somewhere, and now he's done it."
"How old are you, Dot?"
The child shook her head. "I didn't have no birfdays," she said wistfully.
"Ned and Polly and Jim did, but not me."
"Little Dot," cried Tom, hugging the small creature, "so they wanted to
get rid of you, did they! Well, you shall come home with me; and, Dot,
you shall begin to have birthdays to-morrow!"
"And some bread and dripping to-night--all across the loaf?" Dot asked
anxiously.
"Yes, Dot, lots of times across the loaf if you want it."
"I will sell feather brushes for you," said Dot with enthusiasm.
Tom laughed. He had never laughed before all the summer through.
When Tom and Dot reached the mill it was quite dark, and Dot had to
stand still in the doorway while the miller lit his candle. When the
candle was lit the first thing Dot saw was the little brown mouse
scudding across the table. She clapped her hands with delight, for she
was not a bit afraid of mice. But the noise she made frightened the
mouse, and it ran into its hole and never came out again all that night.
[Illustration: Mouse at mouse-hole]
Tom slept on a heap of flour bags, for you see he had tucked Dot up
snugly in his bed; but he slept soundly and well, for it is not so much

the kind of bed we lie on, as the thoughts we lie down with, that give us
pleasant sleep, and of all thoughts the best is that of having done some
good and unselfish action in the day.
Dot proved uncommonly useful next morning. Tiny creature though
she was, she was quite learned in domestic affairs. She lit the fire and
tidied up the room before Tom was even awake. Indeed, when he did
wake, it was to see her perched on his chair peeping into the cupboard
to find the breakfast service. Tom's breakfast service was not extensive.
It consisted of a huge cup and saucer a good deal chipped, two plates
and a jam pot, this last article doing duty as a sugar-basin.
Dot was evidently well used to make-shifts, for she even invented a
new one. Upon the mantelshelf was a curious old vase with a griffin's
head surrounding it. It was shaped like a jug, so Dot took it down and
washed it, saying to herself, "This will make a fine milk-jug."
"A fine milk-jug?" yawned the miller from his flour-bag couch. "Ah, to
be sure! children want milk to drink." And with this he threw on his
clothes, and hastily washed himself in a water-butt which stood near
the mill steps. Then he called to Dot. "Come, little one, bring your
milk-jug; we will go to the farm for milk for your breakfast."
"But we want to fetch the milk in a can," objected Dot.
Tom scratched his head in a bewildered way for a moment, then a
happy thought struck him. "My beer-can will do, won't it?" he asked.
"Yes," answered Dot seriously, "only first it must be scrubbed."
So Tom scrubbed the can obediently, and when it shone sufficiently the
two started off to a neighbouring farm to buy the milk.
On the way from the farm a strange thing happened. Tom and Dot were
trudging merrily along a little lane, when they perceived a woman
crouching under a hedge, holding in her arms a bundle wrapped in a
shawl. The woman might have escaped notice, perhaps, had not a cry
proceeded from the bundle. Tom had of late heard so many cries in his

heart, that his ear readily lent itself to one from outside. He came up to
the woman, therefore, at once and said, "You have a little one wrapped
in that, haven't you? Is it hungry? If it is, here is some milk."
At first the woman did not raise her head. It was hidden in the shawl
which covered the infant, so the miller repeated his question. Then the
woman looked up, and the eyes which met Tom's were those of Anne
Grey. She knew Tom at once, but it was with no smile of pleasure that
she greeted him. Her words, too, when they came, were hard and cold.
She only said, "So, Tom Lecky, you see what I have come to; rejoice in
it!"
"Does the little one want food?" Tom asked again, without noticing in
any way the words or the tone of the woman.
"And if it does?" said Anne, with a bitter little laugh.
"Why, if it does, I'm ready to give it some," said Tom, passing his
coat-sleeve before his eyes for a moment. Then