should like to know?"

"Well, I begged grandfather to crush it, and I had the iron right
over it once, ready to drop, but grandfather begged me not to hurt
it in that way. So I couldn't think what he'd have, for he hopped
round the room as if he were sore afraid, for all he begged me not
to injure it. At last he goes to th' kettle, and lifts up the lid,
and peeps in. What on earth is he doing that for, thinks I; he'll
never drink his tea with a scorpion running free and easy about the
room. Then he takes the tongs, and he settles his spectacles on his
nose, and in a minute he had lifted the creature up by th' leg, and
dropped him into the boiling water."

"And did that kill him?" said Mary.

"Ay, sure enough; he boiled for longer time than grandfather liked,
though. But I was so afeard of his coming round again, I ran to the
public-house for some gin, and grandfather filled the bottle, and
then we poured off the water, and picked him out of the kettle, and
dropped him into the bottle, and he were there about a twelvemonth."

"What brought him to life at first?" asked Mary.

"Why, you see, he were never really dead, only torpid--that is, dead
asleep with the cold, and our good fire brought him round."

"I'm glad father does not care for such things," said Mary.

"Are you? Well, I'm often downright glad grandfather is so fond of
his books, and his creatures, and his plants. It does my heart good