‘Pray you, do me this one little service, and do not ask me why. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. CHAPTER X. One wants helpers and protectors—and clean water. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. The blow was scarcely dealt, when, with a bound like that of a tiger, Blueskin sprang upon him.
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