"I've wronged you, Joe Clark," ses George Barstow, coming to the door,
"and I'm sorry for it."
"Oh!" ses Joe, staring.
"Give that to your little Jimmy," ses George Barstow, giving 'im a
shilling. "I've give 'im one, but I thought arterwards it wasn't
enough."
"What for?" ses Joe, staring at 'im agin.
"For bringing my cat 'ome," ses George Barstow. "'Ow it got out I can't
think, but I lost it for three hours, and I'd about given it up when your
little Jimmy brought it to me in 'is arms. He's a fine little chap and
'e does you credit."
Joe Clark tried to speak, but he couldn't get a word out, and Henery
Walker, wot 'ad just come up and 'eard wot passed, took hold of 'is arm
and helped 'im home. He walked like a man in a dream, but arf-way he
stopped and cut a stick from the hedge to take 'ome to little Jimmy. He
said the boy 'ad been asking him for a stick for some time, but up till
then 'e'd always forgotten it.
At the end o' the fust year that cat was still alive, to everybody's
surprise; but George Barstow took such care of it 'e never let it out of
'is sight.
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