An' so I run after 'im, an' when I was gettin' hold of 'im, 'e dodged, an' it ripped 'is collar.

But I got my cobbler--" He pulled from his pocket a black old horse-chestnut hanging on a string.

This old cobbler had "cobbled"-- hit and smashed--seventeen other cobblers on similar strings.

So the boy was proud of his veteran.
"Well," said Mrs.Morel, "you know you've got no right to rip his collar." "Well, our mother!" he answered.

"I never meant tr'a done it--an' it was on'y an old indirrubber collar as was torn a'ready." "Next time," said his mother, "YOU be more careful.