In the World

I went out into the world as shop-boy at a fashionable boot-shop in the main street of the town. My master was a small, round man. He had a brown, rugged face, green teeth, and watery, mud-colored eyes. At first I thought he was blind, and to see if my supposition was correct, I made a grimace.
Don't pull your face about! he said to me gently, but sternly. The thought that those dull eyes could see me was unpleasant, and I did not want to believe that this was the case. Was it not more than probable that he had guessed I was making grimaces?
I told you not to pull your face about, he said again, hardly moving his thick lips.
Don't scratch your hands, his dry whisper came to me, as it were, stealthily. You are serving in a first-class shop in the main street of the town, and you must not forget it. The door-boy ought to stand like a statue.
I did not know what a statue was, and I could n't help scratching my hands, which were covered with red pimples and sores, for they had been simply devoured by vermin.
What did you do for a living when you were at home? asked my master, looking at my hands.
I told him, and he shook his round head, which was closely covered with gray hair, and said in a shocked voice:
Rag-picking! Why, that is worse than begging or stealing!
I informed him, not without pride:
But I stole as well.
At this he laid his hands on his desk, looking just like a cat with her paws up, and fixed his eyes on my face with a terrified expression as he whispered:
Wha—a—t? How did you steal?