Meg could not refuse. She placed first one foot then the other on the board, and brush, brush went the active hands.
Meanwhile a big struggle was going on within Meg. She had no money but that threepenny-piece. Ought she to give it to the lad for blacking her boots? She put her hand into her pocket and turned the small silver piece about.
It was all that stood between her and penury. Still she could not accept a service without paying for it from this cripple, who was earning money for the "little chap."
"There!" said the boy rising, putting up his traps with an air of fine indifference to the effect produced by his action upon Meg's boots.
"I am very much obliged," said Meg hesitatingly; "and here is threepence."
"I don't want yer money," replied the boy with an emphatic jerk of his head. "Keep it; ye'll want it yerself."
Meg's admiration for her companion increased. She gazed down on her boots. "They're splendid," she said fervently; "I never thought boots could shine like that!"
"Well, I thinks as no one can beat me at blacking," said the cripple, accepting the compliment. "It's my notions as when the sloppy weather comes I'll make two shillings a day. But it's not a bootblack I'll remain."
"What will you become?" asked Meg.
"I do not mind telling you," replied the cripple with cautious slowness. "I'm going to be a joiner. Ye thinks as I can't. Ye thinks there's too much agin me. Why, everythink was agin me earning money. First that school-board, that was agin me. It wanted to set me all astray, spending time learning figures and spellin'; but I conquered the school-board. I gets too old for that after a bit. Then when I'm told by the lady of this situation in Weybridge to black boots every morning, there's fifty miles for me to get over; and here's the cripple boy agin, two miles from Weybridge!"