"He meant that for me," I said to myself; and I was going to turn away
when I caught sight of something lying in the shadow beneath the little
old four-paned window.
It was something I had never seen before except in pictures; and I was
so interested that I stepped in and was about to pick up the object, but
Shock snatched it away.
"Where did you get it?" I said eagerly.
He did not answer for a few moments, and then said gruffly, "Fields."
"It's a hedgehog, isn't it?" I said. "Here, let me look." He slowly
laid the little prickly animal down on the earthen floor and pushed it
towards me--a concession of civility that was wonderful for Shock; and I
eagerly examined the curious little creature, pricking my fingers a good
deal in the efforts to get a good look at the little black-faced animal
with its pointed snout.
"What are you going to do with it?" I said.
Shock looked up at me in a curious half-cunning way, as he beat out his
clay into a broad sheet; and then, as if about to make a pudding, he
made the hedgehog into a long ball, laid it on the clay, and covered it
up, rolling it over and over till there was nothing visible but a clay
ball.
"What a baby you are, Shock, playing at making mud puddings!" I said.
He did not reply, only smiled in a half-pitying way, took an old
broomstick that he used for a poker, and scraping the ashes of the fire
aside rolled the clay pig-pudding into the middle of the fire, and then
covered it over with the burning ashes, and piled on some bits of wood
and dry cabbage-stumps, making up a good fire, which he set himself to
watch.
It was a wet day, and there was nothing particular to do in the garden;
so I stood looking at Shock's cookery for a time, and then grew tired
and was coming away when for a wonder he spoke.
"Be done soon," he said.
Just then I heard my name called, and running through the rain I found
that Old Brownsmith wanted me for a while about some entries that he
could not find in the book, and which he thought had not been made.
I was able, however, to show him that the entries had been made; and as
soon as I was at liberty I ran down the garden again to see how the
cookery was going on.
As I reached the door the little shed was all of a glow, for Shock was
raking the fire aside, but, apparently not satisfied, he raked it all
back again, and for the next half hour he amused himself piling up
scraps of wood and refuse to make the fire burn, ending at last by
raking all away, leaving the lump of clay baked hard and red.