54 



THE RAT 



autumn babies reddish-brown eyes, until every- 

 thing came to be so mixed up as it seems to be 

 nowadays. 



What a lot of * perhapses'! I love perhapses : they 

 are so much nicer than knowing for certain. That 

 is partly the reason why it seems to me that a 

 tramp ought to be a happier man than you. You 

 know all about your breakfast to-morrow : porridge, 

 bacon and eggs, muffins and strawberry jam, 

 coffee or tea — you can hardly put ' perhaps ' in 

 once. But very often the whole of a tramp's 

 breakfast is * perhaps'; and although I am very fond 

 of perhapses, I should not care to have nothing else 

 for breakfast, however nicely it was cooked, unless 

 they put an awful lot of sauce and trimmings 

 round the side. And a rat is better off still. 

 He never says anything without beginning with 

 'Perhaps.' His whole life is so very perhapsy, 

 though he can generally find something to eat, if only 

 he is alive to eat it. We are really very particular 

 about our food, when we have the chance of being 

 particular, but if it comes to the worst there is 

 hardly anything that will not do, until something 

 nicer turns up. 



I have eaten boots and bootlaces, backs of books 

 and antimacassars, tallow candles and blacking. 



