To my great annoyance he snatched off my cap.
"To be sure! I'm right," he said, and then he put my cap on again,
uncomfortably wrong, and all back: for no one can put your cap on for
you as you do it yourself. "You live over yonder at the white house
with the lady who is ill?"
I nodded.
"The widow lady?"
"I live with mamma," I said shortly.
"Been very ill, hasn't she?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah! bad thing illness, I suppose. Never was ill, only when the wagon
went over my leg."
"Yes, sir, she has been very bad."
I was fidgeting to go, but he took hold of one of the ends of my little
check silk tie, and kept fiddling it about between his finger and thumb.
"What's the matter?"
"Dr Morrison told Mrs Beeton, our landlady, that it was decline, sir."
"And then Mrs Beeton told you?"
"No, sir, I heard the doctor tell her."
"And then you went and frightened the poor thing and made her worse by
telling her?"
"No, I did not, sir," I said warmly.
"Why not?"
"Because I thought it might make her worse."
"Humph! Hah! Poor dear lady!" he said more softly. "Looked too ill to
come to church last Sunday, boy. Flowers and fruit for her?"
I nodded.
"She send you to buy 'em?"
I shook my head, for I was so hurt by his abrupt way, his sharp
cross-examination, and the thoughts of my mother's illness, that I could
not speak.
"Who sent you then--Mrs Beeton?"
"No, sir."
"Who did?"
"Nobody, sir. I thought she would like some, and I came."
"For a surprise, eh?"
Yes, sir.
"Own money?"
I stared at him hard.
"I said, Own money? the sixpence? Where did you get it?"
"I have sixpence a week allowed me to spend."
"Hah! to be sure," he said, still holding on by my tie, and staring at
me as he fumbled with one hand in his trousers pocket. "Get out, Dick,
or I'll tread on you!" this to one of the cats, who seemed to think
because he was black and covered with black fur that he was a
blacking-brush, and he was using himself accordingly all over his
master's boots.
"If you please, I want to go now," I said hurriedly.
"To be sure you do," he said, still holding on to the end of my tie--"to
be sure you do. Hah! that's got him at last."
I stared in return, for there had been a great deal of screwing about
going on in that pocket, as if he could not get out his big fist, but it
came out at last with a snatch.
"Here, where are you?" he said. "Weskit? why, what a bit of a slit it
is to call a pocket. Hold the sixpence though, won't it?"