"I trust you and I are going to be
good friends, Max. I'm no so young myself as I once was, but I like the
company of the blithe young lads and lasses."
"Thank you, sir," said Max, coloring with pleasure. "Rosie says you tell
splendid stories about Wallace and the Bruce and Robin Hood and his merry
men; and I know I shall enjoy them ever so much."
As he finished his sentence Max colored more deeply than before, at the
same time hastily thrusting his right hand deep into the pocket on that
side of his overcoat, for a peculiar sound like the cry of a young puppy
seemed to come from it at that instant, much to the boy's discomfiture and
astonishment.
"What is that? What have you got there, Max?" asked little Walter,
pricking up his ears, while Violet asked with an amused look, "Have you
been making an investment in livestock, Max?"
A query that seemed all the more natural and appropriate as the cluck of a
hen came from the pocket on the other side of the overcoat.
Down went the left hand into that. "No, Mamma Vi, they're not in my
pockets," returned the boy, with a look of great bewilderment.
"No, to be sure not," said Mr.
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