And she followed up these observations by telling him a series of stories about the pilferings of her childhood, in such a manner that the boy did not understand that these were thefts she was describing so pleasantly. He was entertained, and thought she was very kind and condescending. So, indeed, she was.
But it was the condecension of a ruthless, remorseless woman, with the face of an enchantress and the heart of a demon.
She had the boy in her toils, and as our story progresses, we shall see what she made of him.
Alf Purvis went to bed that night in a state of mind which was at once happy and confused.
Happy because he had six shillings in his pocket, confused because he was not accustomed to whiskey and water, and because the doctrines which his mistress’s anecdotes appeared to inculcate were so different to those which Mr. Jamblin had been accustomed to propound.
He considered the matter over before going to sleep, and came to the conclusion that one must be wrong. It was clear, however, so he thought, that the citizens of the metropolis and the rustics of the country, just as they dressed in two different styles, so viewed questions of morality from two points of view.
Which view was right he had not at present determined.
It would be a blessing indeed for him if he had never left the roof of the honest old farmer.
He expected to find another consignment of gold fish on the sideboard on the following morning, but in this he was mistaken.
For the next few days he was sent out with second-hand telescopes and opera glasses.