England -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Runaway children -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
He let his paper fall in his lap and stared hard at me.
"Now, look here, my lad," he said, expelling a large cloud of smoke, "I
don't want you to commit yourself, and it's my dooty to tell you that
whatever you say will be--No, no, nonsense. Come, speak out. What are
you laughing at? What have you been doing?"
Hereupon I told him my adventure, my eyes sparkling with delight.
"And a whole sovereign into the bargain!" he cried as I finished.
"Let's look at it."
I handed him the bright new golden coin, and he span it up in the air,
caught it dexterously, and bit it. Then he tried it three or four times
on the table, as a shopman would a piece of money on a counter, and
ended by making believe to thrust it into his pocket.
"It's a good one," he said, "and I think I shall stick to it for your
board and lodging last night and this morning. What do you say?"
"I think you ought to be paid, sir," I said eagerly, "for you were very
good to me."
He stared hard at me for a few moments, and then thrust the sovereign
back in my hand.
"I've seen a good many boys in my time," he said, "but I'm blessed if
ever I run again one like you. Why, you've got plenty of pluck, or else
you wouldn't have run away; but of all the simple--well, I won't say
simple, but green--of the green chaps I ever did come across you are
about the greenest."
I flushed up far from that tint at his words, for there was the old
complaint again about my greenness.
"Please, Mr Revitts, I'm very sorry I'm so green," I said, looking at
him wistfully; "perhaps it's because I've always lived in the country."
He stared harder at me.
"Come here," he said sharply, and going to the window, he placed me
between his knees, laid a great hand upon each of my shoulders grasping
them firmly, and gazed straight into my eyes. "Look here, youngster,"
he said angrily, "is it R or F? Are you trying to humbug me? Because,
if so, it won't do: I'm too old."
"Humbug you, sir?" I said wonderingly. "I don't know what you mean."
"That you don't," he said, dropping his fierce way and sinking back
smiling. "'Struth, what a boy you are!"
I gazed at him in a troubled way, for I felt hurt.
"I'm very sorry, Mr Revitts," I said, "and I hope you don't think I
would do anything to deceive you," for that "R or F" puzzled me.
"Deceive me? Not you, my boy. Why, you couldn't deceive a sparrer or a
hoyster. Why, you're as transparent as a pane of glass. I can see
right through you and out on the other side."
"I'm afraid I am very stupid, sir," I said sadly. "I'll try to learn to
be more clever. I don't know much, only about books, and natural
history, and botany, but I'll try very hard not--not to be so--so--
green."
"Why, bless your young heart, where have you been all your life? You're
either as cunning as--No, you ain't, you really are as innocent as a
lamb."
"I've always been at home with papa and mamma, sir."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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