Hor could not answer in the affirmative.
"Think it'll make ye more respectable?"
Hor shook his head.
"Think it'll bring money into your pocket—leastways without you takes to stealin' too?"
"I don't think nothin' about it, save that I'm tired o' tryin' to no purpose," said Hor listlessly.
Job paused a moment in his work, to glance at the boy's thin face and hollow eyes.
"Poor lad!" he muttered. "I'd like to be able to help ye."
"Nobody can't—save them as won't," said Hon
"How old are ye, boy?"
"Thirteen—nigh upon fourteen."