between your toes. That was charming; but it was pleasant, too, to wash the mud off on the wet grass. Dickie always remembered that moment. It was the first time in his life that he really enjoyed being clean. In the hospital you were almost too clean; and you didn't do it yourself. That made all the difference. Yet it was the memory of the hospital that made him say, "I wish I could 'ave a bath."
"So you shall," said Mr. Beale; "a reg'ler wash all over—this very night. I always like a wash meself. Some blokes think it pays to be dirty. But it don't. If you're clean they say 'Honest Poverty,' an' if you're dirty they say 'Serve you right.' We'll get a pail or something this very night."
"You are good," said Dickie. "I do like you."
Mr. Beale looked at him through the deepening twilight—rather queerly, Dickie thought. Also he sighed heavily.
"Oh, well—all's well as has no turning; and things don't always What I mean to say, you be a good boy and I'll do the right thing by you."
"I know you will," said Dickie, with enthusiasm. "I know 'ow good you are!"
"Bless me!" said Mr. Beale uncomfortably. "Well, there. Step out, sonny, or we'll never get there this side Christmas."
*****
Now you see that Mr. Beale may be a cruel, wicked man who only wanted to get hold of Dickie so as to make money out of him; and he
