Personal Reminiscences in Book Making, and Some Short Stories — John Shaqi
Personal Reminiscences in Book Making, and Some Short StoriesBallantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael)
General
Personal Reminiscences in Book Making, and Some Short Stories
Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael)
Authorship; Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael), 1825-1894 -- Anecdotes; Short stories
It was to Harry Stronghand that little Pat directed his steps, after
overhearing the conversation which we have related. Pat knew that the
son of the parsonage was a hero, and, in his opinion, the most
intelligent member of the family, and the best fitted to cope with the
facts which he had to reveal. He met the object of his search on the
road.
"Plaze yer honour," said Pat--who was an Irishman, and therefore
"honoured" everybody--"there's two tramps at the public as is plottin'
to break into your house i' the mornin'."
"You don't mean it, do you?" returned Harry, with a smile and raised
eyebrows.
"That's just what I do, yer honour. I heard 'em reel off the whole
plan."
Hereupon the boy related all that he knew to the youth, who leaned
against a gate and nodded his curly head approvingly until the story was
finished.
"You've not mentioned this to any one, have you, Pat?"
"Niver a sowl but yersilf, sir."
"You're a sensible boy, Pat. Here's a shilling for you--and, look here,
Pat, if you keep dark upon the matter till after breakfast to-morrow and
don't open your lips to a living soul about it, I'll give you half a
crown."
"Thank yer honour."
"Now mind--no hints to the police; no remarks to your master. Be dumb,
in fact, from this moment, else I won't give you a penny."
"Sure I've forgot all about it already, sir," said the boy, with a wink
so expressive that Harry felt his word to be as good as his bond, and
went back to the parsonage laughing.
Arrived there, he went in search of his sister, but found that she was
out.
"Just as well," he muttered, descending to the dining-room with his
hands deep in his pockets, a pleased expression on his handsome mouth,
and a stern frown on his brows. "It would not be safe to make a
confidant of her in so delicate a matter. No, I'll do it all alone.
But how to do it? That is the question. Shall I invite the aid of the
police? Perish the thought! Shall I consult the Pater? Better not.
The dear, self-devoted man might take it out of my hands altogether."
Harry paused in profound meditation. He was standing near the window at
the time, with the "statters" on either hand of him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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