cannot tell. To me it has always been the type of cruelty and rapine.
All at once, as I was playing, I turned round, and saw two boys standing at the door, looking at the bird, and making—as thought—all kinds of irrelevant remarks about it, and laughing. They were two ragged street arabs, about twelve or fourteen, little men in comparison to myself.
As they could not see the bird, they advanced a step or two within the hall. I was alone—for the servants were either in the kitchen or up-stairs—still I peremptorily ordered these two young vagrants out of the house.
"Is it your house?" said the elder mockingly.
"Of course it is," said I, sternly.
A marmot who has a house of his own," said the younger laughing at the absurdity of the statement.
"Out from here," added I, with a grand gesture of the hand.
"Your house?" continued the big boy cyncally, then taking his pizzle out of his ragged
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