"Oh! will you, Jography?--oh! will you, indeed? how I shall love
you! how I shall!"

"And me too, and Toby too!" exclaimed Maurice. And the two children,
in their excitement, flung their arms round their new friend's neck.

"Well, I can speak French anyhow," said the boy. "But now listen.
Don't you two agree to nothink till you hears my story."

"But 'tis sure to be a nice story, Jography," said Maurice. "I shall
like going south with you."

"Well, sit on my knee and listen, young un. No; it ain't nice a bit.
I'm French too, and I'm South too. I used to live in the Pyrenees. I
lived there till I was seven years old. I had a mother and no father,
and I had a big brother. I wor a happy little chap. My mother used to
kiss me and cuddle me up; and my brother--there was no one like Jean.
One day I wor playing in the mountains, when a big black man come up
and axed me if I'd like to see his dancing dogs. I went with him. He
wor a bad, bad man. When he got me in a lonely place he put my head
in a bag, so as I could not see nor cry out, and he stole me. He
brought me to Paris; afterward he sold me to a man in Lunnon as a
'prentice. I had to dance with the dogs, and I was taught to play the
fiddle. Both my masters were cruel to me, and they beat me often and
often. I ha' been in Lunnon for seven year now; I can speak English
well, but I never forgot the French. I always said as I'd run away
back to France, and find my mother and my brother Jean. I never had
the chance, for I wor watched close till ten days ago. I walked to
Dover, and made my way across in an old fishing-smack. And here I am
in France once more. Now little uns, I'm going south, and I can talk