The English Illustrated Magazine/Jock and Saccharissa

JOCK AND SACCHARISSA.
By E. NESBIT and EDGAR JEPSON.

I THOUGHT of my aunt's money; I thought of the dullness of the country; and I looked at Jock.
"Take the little beast!" said Jock's master; and Jock, recognising the word
beast, looked up politely from the scarlet and gold wreck of the second Turkish slipper.
I thought of my aunt's money—but Jock would certainly brighten the dullness of the country. My aunt's invitation afforded me a welcome escape from the post secured for me by the energy and enthusiasm of my friends. For a month, at least, I should not have to get up at five to assist at the birth of the Evening Firefly, which justifies its name by appearing practically with the milk. I adore the country, of course; but I hate its dullness. Life amid flowering meadows and green lanes ever seems to lack purpose, earnestness, effort. In teaching Jock not to eat Turkish slippers I should be pursuing that arduous path of life which I have always set before me; and, somehow, never trodden.
So I took Jock. He travelled down in the pocket of my ulster—warm wear for May—and clamoured at the critical moment of ticket-taking in smothered
but insistent yelps for a ticket of his very

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