BOBBY. 175 



and hear his defiant croak ; and as he strutted before 

 you, looking back triumphantly over his shoulder, you 

 felt that he was laughing at you. 



The garden was his favourite field of operations ; 

 and, considering the time and trouble spent in produc- 

 ing that little oasis, and in persuading plants to grow 

 in it, it was no small trial to be disappointed of one 

 crop of vegetables after another, simply owing to his 

 careful destruction of the young plants almost as soon 

 as they showed their heads above ground. It was pro- 

 voking, on going down to the garden, to find that the 

 few rows of peas or French beans, which we had so 

 carefully sown and watered, and which only the day 

 before were coming up so promisingly, had been but- 

 chered to make Bobby's holiday, and were now all 

 rooted up, dried and shrivelled in the hot sun, and lying, 

 neatly arranged in order, each one in the place where 

 it had grown. The culprit himself would probably be 

 out of sight, for his gardening operations were usually 

 carried on in the early morning, thus securing a quiet 

 uninterrupted time among the plants before we were 

 about ; but once we caught him. We were out earlier 

 than usual, and found Bobby so deeply engrossed in 

 putting the finishing touches to a row of beans which 

 he had pulled up and laid in their places with even 

 more than his usual neatness, that he only looked up 

 in time to see his oftended master a few yards off, and 

 just preparing to throw a good-sized stone. In an 

 instant Bobby's mind was made up. Instead of at- 

 tempting flight, and getting hit by the stone, he 



