"I trust you and I are going to be good friends, Max.

I'm no so young myself as I once was, but I like the company of the blithe young lads and lasses." "Thank you, sir," said Max, coloring with pleasure.

"Rosie says you tell splendid stories about Wallace and the Bruce and Robin Hood and his merry men; and I know I shall enjoy them ever so much." As he finished his sentence Max colored more deeply than before, at the same time hastily thrusting his right hand deep into the pocket on that side of his overcoat, for a peculiar sound like the cry of a young puppy seemed to come from it at that instant, much to the boy's discomfiture and astonishment.
"What is that?
What have you got there, Max ?" asked little Walter, pricking up his ears, while Violet asked with an amused look, "Have you been making an investment in livestock, Max ?" A query that seemed all the more natural and appropriate as the cluck of a hen came from the pocket on the other side of the overcoat.
Down went the left hand into that.

"No, Mamma Vi, they're not in my pockets," returned the boy, with a look of great bewilderment.
"No, to be sure not," said Mr.Lilburn, and the hen clucked behind Violet's chair and the pup's cry was heard coming from underneath a heap of crocheting in Mrs.Dinsmore's lap, fairly startling her into uttering a little cry of surprise and dismay and springing to her feet.
Then everybody laughed, Rosie clapping her hands with delight, and Max glanced from one to another more mystified than ever.
"Never mind, Max," said Violet, "it's plain you are not the culprit who brought such unwelcome intruders here.

Run up to your room now and make yourself ready for tea." Max obeyed, but looking back from the doorway, asked, "Shall I send one of the servants to turn out the hen and carry away the pup ?" "Never mind, we'll attend to it," said Mr.Dinsmore.
"I'll find 'em.