Then he went on: "I've tried several times since, Grant, my lad, but the young savage is apparently irreclaimable.

Perhaps when he gets older something may be done." "I hope so," I said.

"It seems so dreadful to see a boy so--" "So dirty and lost, as the north-country people call it, boy.

Ah, well, let him have his way for a bit, and we'll see by and by! You say he has not annoyed you ?" "No, no," I said; "I don't think he likes me though." "That does not matter," said the old gentleman, rising.

"There, now, I'm going to shave." I looked at him in wonder, as he took a tin pot from out of a cupboard, and brought forth his razors, soap, and brush.
"Give me that looking-glass that hangs on the wall, my lad; that's it." I fetched the glass from the nail on which it hung, and then he set it upright, propped by a little support behind, and then I sat still as he placed his razor in boiling water, soaped his chin all round, and scraped it well, removing the grey stubble, and leaving it perfectly clean.
It seemed to me a curious thing to do on a breakfast-table, but it was the old man's custom, and it was not likely that he would change his habits for me.
"There," he said smiling, "that's a job you won't want to do just yet awhile.