The carriage rolled along the dusty, winding road. According to a stone road mark, the carriage and its passengers were entering Northamptonshire. It was almost mid-day, and Charley realized just how hungry he was as his stomach emitted a rather large growl. After all, he hadn't eaten since early in the previous afternoon. He looked over the beaten path and scanned the surrounding scenery for any sign of a place that might provide sustenance for his noisy stomach. A tree…¦a field…¦a tree in a field…¦a farm. A farm!

Just as Charley was preparing to quit himself of the carriage, the latter hit a larger-than-average-sized hole in the road and Charley, along with several bales of hay, was thrown from the carriage and onto the path with a loud thud. Apparently not to shaken from this incident, Charley, with his head held high like that of a toff, as if he had gracefully relieved the carriage of himself as opposed to having been thrown from it, whipped out his pocket-handkerchief and wiped an imaginary tear from his eye in mock distress at seeing the carriage stroll away. Charley very much enjoyed being over-dramatic. He then strode off in his direction of choice, humming a tune (something about how parting was such sweet sorrow) that he had learned from Fagin.

The farm was not too far away, and Charley had nearly reached the stables when he realized that he hadn't a plan of attack. He couldn't very well just walk into the establishment; he would surely be seen by the young man feeding the sheep not too far ahead of where Charley was standing. And so he was.

Before he had had a chance to conceal himself properly, Charley was being approached by the young man previously described. His face and arms were rather sun-beaten, and he sported patched trousers and a shirt, which Charley was certain must have seen better days, perhaps the days when the dinosaurs roamed the earth. His feet were bare and filthy, but he seemed, based on his benevolent countenance, to be a quite well mannered fellow.

"H'lo there. What can I do for yeh, Tadpole?"

Tadpole?

Mr. Bates, deciding it best to ignore the latter part of the young man's address, decided to lay it on thick.

"Please, sir, I haven't a place to stay. I haven't eaten in days! My poor, blistered feet have seen many miles, day after day, week after week, month after-"

Here, noticing that he already had his audience's undivided attention, he decided to take it down a notch.

"Well, in short, sir, I'm a mess."

"Gee, that's awful unfortunate. 'Ope yer luck improves." Said the young man, his attention being drawn away from Charley and to a rather large sheep being chased by a rather small pig.

"Wait! I have more!" Said Charley. "Ah, --- where was I, day after day, week after-oh! Right! I was beaten and stoned and ill-treated! I- I suffer from the influenza!"

Here Charley burst into a sudden fit of coughing and sneezing.
"Well, in that case, I'd better get yeh out of the cold. Follow me, Tadpole, and I'll get yeh something to eat."

Charley complied, opting not to point out the fact that it was mid-summer and the weather was uncomfortably warm. He smiled to himself; he was having way too much fun with this.

"What's yer name, kid?" Asked the young man as they entered the small cabin in which the young man lived.

"Charley."

He was no longer smiling, as he did not like being referred to as "kid" or "Tadpole"; he was not much younger than the young man.

"Pickett's the name," said the young man proudly, sounding as though Charley had asked with interest. "Joseph Pickett."

Charley was fed well and offered lodgings, which he accepted gratefully. He and Joseph were sitting at the kitchen table discussing world issues, and how the world would run so much smoother if Charley was king, when they were interrupted by a man, this one being by no means young.

"Who's yer friend, Joseph?" inquired the man, who's attire was of the same quality as the younger's.

Joseph explained to his father Charley's situation.

"Well, of course yer always welcome here." Mr. Pickett said to Charley. "Joseph hasn't been too bothersome, has he?"

"No, sir, he's been very kind."

"Heh. Well, give it a day or two, you'll see. Boy hasn't got the sense the Good Lord gave a goose. Not too much to look at either. Why, poor Mrs. Pickett! She looked into that face just after he was born and has been blind ever since!"

Joseph didn't seem to be paying attention to his father's analysis of him; instead he was slapping himself in the face where a fly had been not a second before.

"Well, you'd better be off to bed! Busy day tomorrow, Charley. You've got to earn your keep, you know."
Charley thought that "you've got to earn your keep" didn't have quite as nice a ring as "you've got to pick a pocket or two", which had always been the motto by which he lived religiously. But for the first time in his life, Charley had an epiphany.

Maybe an honest living won't be so bad…I won't have to live in fear of the beak, and I have food and a place to stay…

Of course he had that while under Fagin's apprenticeship, but an honest living didn't sound quite so bad after all…

The next morning Charley was awoken by a startling noise that caused him to sit up sharply in his bed and hit his head on a shelf just above him.

"Don't hurt me! Ouch…"

He looked out the window and found the source of the noise. A large rooster was sitting on the fence post just below his window and was crowing away loudly.

"Cock-a-doodle-SQUAWK!" Was the last sound to be heard from this particular rooster, for Charley had chucked something large and heavy at it.

"That's better."

He got dressed and headed downstairs to the kitchen, where poor Mrs. Pickett fed him generously. No sooner had he swallowed his last bite than Joseph Pickett entered, informing Charley that it was time to "Give the cows their brikfist."

The day was filled with activities that Charley had never done before. He fed the cows, of course; he sheared the sheep; he cleaned the stables. However, the most memorable part of his day happened to be the catching of the pig, and here's what happened:

Joseph and Charley were heading back from the stables after all the chores of the day were completed.

Charley was considerably tired, never having worked so hard in his life, unless you count dodging the suspicious, nosy policemen.

Charley let out a yawn, and since his mouth was already open decided to start a conversation with Joseph. But Joseph wasn't there.

"AAAAAHH!"

Charley looked behind him and saw Joseph lying on the ground. A small pig, the same small pig that Charley had seen earlier had knocked Joseph off of his feet and was now running away from Charley and Joseph and across the field.

Charley looked from Joseph to the runaway pig for several seconds, trying with all his might to stifle his laughter. He didn't succeed for very long.

"C'mon, Tadpole, don't just stand there like a fool!" Said Joseph, already on his feet and starting off after the pig. Charley brought up the rear, extremely amused at the situation.

They spotted the pig after a minute or two, and followed it left, right, left again; the three were quite a sight. The pig seemed to be enjoying the situation almost as much as Charley who was having a hard time keeping up, as he was laughing uncomfortably hard.
Joseph, running at a remarkable speed, caught up with the pig and pounced on it, pinning it down with all of his weight.

Charley, who was several yards away, replaced his laughter with a low chuckle, and hurried to help Joseph.

"Cor! He's not too bright but he sure can run!"