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“But he ain’t to his house,” Nathan objected. “I seen how he goes away.”

“Well, then, how did he go away?”

“Teacher, it’s like this. Me und Morris we stands by our block when comes the baker’s wagon. Und the baker he goes in the groc’ry store to sell bread und his wagon und horse stands by us. Und, say, on the horse’s face is something, from leather, so the horse couldn’t to eat. He couldn’t to open his mouth even. But all times he longs out his neck like he should eat und he looks on me und Morris. So Morris he says: ‘Ain’t it fierce how that bad man makes mit that horse? Something from leather on the face ain’t healthy for horses. I guess I takes it off.'”

“But he didn’t, Nathan?”

“Yiss ma’an, he takes it off. He says like that: ‘You know how Teacher says we should make all times what is lovin’ mit dogs und cats und horses.’ Und say, Teacher, Missis Bailey, that’s how you says. He had a ring over it. A from sure gold ring mit his name–“

“But the horse?” Miss Bailey interrupted. “The horse with the muzzle. I remember, dear, what I said, but I hope Morris didn’t touch that baker’s horse.”

“Sure did he,” cried Nathan. “He buttons out that thing what I told you from leather, on the horse’s face, und the horse he swallows the golden ring.”

“Why, I never heard of such a thing,” gasped Miss Bailey. And Nathan explained.

“Morris, he gives the horse a sweet potato und the horse he swallows the golden ring. He swallows it way, way, WAY down. Und it was from sure gold-“

“But it must have been very loose or it wouldn’t have come off his finger so easily.”

“It didn’t come off,” said Nathan patiently. “The horse he swallowed the finger too–four fingers–und it was from sure gold ring mit his name scratched in on it, what he had off of you, Teacher, for present over that cat.”

“Oh, you must be wrong,” cried Miss Bailey, “it can’t be as bad as you say.”

“Yiss ma’an, from sure gold nut–“

“But his hand. Are you sure about his hand?”

“I seen it,” said Nathan. “I seen how comes blood on the sidewalk. I seen how comes a great big all of people. I seen how comes Morris’s mamma und hollers like a fair theayter. I seen how comes Patrick Brennan’s papa–he’s a cop–und he makes come the amb’lance. Und sooner the doctor seen how comes blood on the sidewalk he says like this: so Morris bleeds four more inches of blood he don’t got no more blood in his body. Say, I seen right into Morris He’s red inside. So-o-oh, the doctor he bandages up his hand und takes him in the amb’lance, und all times his mamma hollers und yells und says mad words on the doctor so he had a mad over her. Und Morris he lays in the amb’lance und cries. Now he’s sick.”

School dragged heavily that morning for the distressed and powerless Miss Bailey. She thought remorsefully of the trusty armour of timidity which she had, plate by plate, stripped from her favourite, and of the bravery and loving kindness which she had so carefully substituted and which had led the child–Where?

“Nathan,” she called as the children were going home, “do you know to what hospital Morris was taken? Did you see the doctor?”

“Sure did I.”

“Was he a tall doctor? Had you ever seen him before?”

“No ma’an,” answered Nathan with a beautiful directness. “It wasn’t your fellow We ain’t seen him from long. But Morris he goes on the Guv’neer Hospital. I ain’t never seen the doctor, but I knows the driver und the horse.”

Shortly after three o’clock that afternoon Miss Bailey and Doctor Ingraham were standing beside a little bed in Gouverneur Hospital.

“Nathan is a horrible little liar,” said the doctor genially. “Morris will be as well as ever in a week or so. The horse stood on his foot and bruised it rather badly, but he has all his fingers and his ring too. Haven’t you, old man?”