Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Orphans -- Juvenile fiction; Sunday school literature
It was quite a relief when a putter or any one came near that he could
speak to. Hudson Brownlee had known perfectly well ever since he was a
child that "God is everywhere," but he had never thought about it; he
was _realizing_ His presence for the first time, and it made him nervous
to feel that he was alone with God, who was powerful, and whom he had
neglected.
We must now go back to Charlie. His duty, if it was dull and lonely, was
simple and easily attended to. He had opened the door for a great many
boys and men, but he had not seen anything more of Bob White. Charlie
remembered he was an old enemy, and had often waylaid himself and the
other boys on their way to Mrs. Greenwell's class, and ridiculed them.
His saucy, mocking tongue made him the terror of most of the boys in the
mine. He had had the run of London streets for ten years, before his
mother removed into the north, and was more than a match for most of the
north country boys in a battle of words.
CHAPTER IX.
NOT ALONE.
Charlie's morning had passed away pretty well, and he began to think it
must be dinner time; at any rate he felt hungry, so he sat down and
looked to see what his mother had packed up for his dinner. There was a
nice little beefsteak pie, just about as much as he could eat, and two
or three of his favourite little round cakes to finish with; so Charlie
in high glee, spread the cloth they were wrapped in over his knees, said
grace, asked himself very politely if he would take a little pie, said
thank you, and took the dish. He had eaten about half of it, and was
enjoying himself very much when who should he see coming along but Bob
White. What should he do? Should he try to wrap his dinner up and put it
out of sight, or go on eating? but before he could decide, Bob was upon
him.
"Why," exclaimed Bob, pretending to start with surprise, "if here isn't
the ladies' pet! and getting his dinner too," said Bob, stooping down to
look curiously in the dish that was on Charlie's knee.
"Pie," he remarked, "and very good it looks; what else? Oh, cakes! well,
I'm in luck's way to-day, I am," breaking a piece off one and putting it
in his mouth. "What's in the can?" he asked, pointing to it with his
foot.
"Water," answered Charlie, trying hard to keep his temper.
"Well, you're a one to know manners," said Bob, "never to offer one a
place to sit down on--move along. I'll hold the dish;" and suiting the
action to the word, he snatched it up, and before Charlie had recovered
himself, the rest of the pie was half eaten.
[Illustration: CHARLIE AND THE PIE.]
"Give me that dish," said Charlie, trembling with passion.
Bob paused, and put on an injured countenance. "Can't you wait until
I've finished? shouting out for the dish like that."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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