himself that he always thought out loud--louder than other people
talk: for, being deaf, he could not hear himself, and never had a
suspicion that he could be heard by others.

"He's lost, that's what he is," continued old Jacob aloud to himself.
"And what's more, he's been and gone and forgot all about his own
home, and all he wants is summat to eat. I'll take him and keep him,
that's what I'll do: for he's a stray lamb, and belongs to him that
finds him, like any other lamb I finds. I'll make him believe I'm
his old dad; for he's little and will believe most anything you
tells him. I'll learn him to do things about the house--to boil the
kettle, and cook the wittels, and gather the firewood, and mend the
clothes, and do the washing, and draw the water, and milk the cow,
and dig the potatoes, and mind the sheep and--and--and that's what
I'll learn him. Then, Jacob, you can sit down and smoke your pipe,
'cos you'll have some one to do your work for you."

Martin stood quietly listening to all this, not quite understanding
the old man's kind intentions. Then old Jacob, promising to give him
something to eat, pulled him up on to his horse, and started home at
a gallop.

Soon they arrived at a mud hovel, thatched with rushes, the roof
sloping down so low that one could almost step on to it; it was
surrounded with a ditch, and had a potato patch and a sheep enclosure;
for old Jacob was a shepherd, and had a flock of sheep. There were
several big dogs, and when Martin got down from the horse, they
began jumping round him, barking with delight, as if they knew him,
half-smothering him with their rough caresses. Jacob led him into
the hut, which looked extremely dirty and neglected, and had only