III.

_THE LITTLE STOWAWAY._


One of my earliest friends at the Park was a little French boy, a kind
of page of my uncle's. Shall I tell you about him? You will think it
very funny that a servant-boy should be allowed to be my friend, so I
must explain.

Little Gus, as my uncle called him--though his real name was
Gustave--was altogether a little foreigner. He couldn't talk English at
all properly; in fact, the greater part of our conversation was carried
on by signs. He was very much afraid of everybody in the house, except
Uncle Hugh. He thought there was nobody in all the world like the
Captain, as he called him. His bright eyes used to twinkle and his white
teeth shine whenever he could find a chance of running an errand, or
doing any little job for the Captain; and I think it was, perhaps,
because he took me for the Captain's little pet that he grew so fond of
me.

He would follow me all about the garden, and watch me as I talked away
to Jane, and be ready to find my ball or fetch my hoop the minute I
wanted them.

Now, after we had been a little while at the Park, I found that Jane had
got very fond of flowers, and was always anxious to go to the