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string of curses, which, whether he comprehended them or not, were delivered with practised emphasis, and distorted his baby features into a shocking expression of malignity. You may be certain this grieved more than angered me. Fit to cry, I took an orange from my pocket, and offered it to propitiate him. He hesitated, and then snatched it from my hold; as if he fancied I only intended to tempt and disappoint him. I showed another, keeping it out of his reach.
`Who has taught you those fine words, my bairn?' I inquired. `The curate?'
`Damn the curate, and thee! Gie me that,' he replied.
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`Tell us where you got your lessons, and you shall have it,' said I. `Who's your master?'
`Devil daddy,' was his answer.
`And what do you learn from daddy?' I continued.
He jumped at the fruit; I raised it higher. `What does he teach you?' I asked.
`Naught,' said he, `but to keep out of his gait. Daddy cannot bide me, because I swear at him.'
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