leathery face into the well-lighted room, and said shortly:

'Your boy, ma'am!'

Shine withdrew instantly, closing the door noiselessly after him, and
left Dick flushed and furious.

'He didn't take me,' he cried. 'I was comin' home, an' he grabbed me just
outside there--the beast!

Dick stopped short, suddenly conscious of the presence of visitors. Mrs.
Hardy was sitting opposite his mother by the wide fireplace--the tall,
white-haired gentlewoman in whose society he always felt himself
transformed suddenly into a sort of saintly fellowship with the
remarkably gentlemanly little boys whose acquaintance he made in the
books provided by the chapel library. At the table sat Gable, the grey,
chubby-faced third-class scholar whom Joel Ham had forgiven because of
his extreme youth. The old man had a circular slab of bread and jam in
his left hand, and was grinning fraternally at Dick. There was a third
visitor, a stranger, a brown-haired, brown-skinned, bony young man,
dressed after the manner of a drover. He had a small moustache, and a
grave, taking face. He looked like a bushranger, Dick thought admiringly.

'This is Richard, Henry,' said Mrs. Hardy.

'You don't know me, eh, Coppertop?' said the young man, taking the boy's
hand.

'Harry Hardy,' said Dick at random.