“For if you had not made it your duty to defend the place, I should have turned you away at a minute's notice to-morrow morning. I have done this on purpose to try your courage a little; only I meant to catch you in bed, instead of where you are.”
“But I regret having struck you,” protested Colin.
“As to that,” replied Peter, “that, you know, is your business; and if I like to run the risk of getting a beating, why, that, of course, is mine. Only I never yet had a man in my employ that I did not try in the same way; and many a one have I discharged because they would not turn again. It's no use having a dog that won't bark, and bite too, if he is wanted; so I always put them to the proof in the first instance.”
His hearer did not particularly admire Mr. Veriquear's sagacious method of trying the mettle of his men; but, inasmuch as it had so far ingratiated him into the favour of his employer, he did not lament the occurrence of a rencontre which, though it had promised seriously at the outset, terminated so harmlessly. He accordingly betook himself again to his pallet, and slept out soundly the remainder of the night; while Mr. Veriquear departed by the same way he had come, highly gratified with the courage of Colin, and rejoicing in the hard blow that he had so ably bestowed upon his shoulders.
CHAPTER XXIV.
A Sunday sight in London.—Colin meets with his best friend, and receives a heart-breaking epistle from Miss Wintlebury.
IT was not during the six days only, but on Sundays also, that Colin found employment at Peter Veriquear's. As regularly as the Sabbath came, he was converted into an animal of draught and burden, by being placed at the pole of that cradle-coach already alluded to, and engaged during stated hours in giving his employer's young family an airing amongst the delightful precincts of Hoxton New Town and the Hackney-road. On one of these occasions he very luckily, though accidentally, met with a gentleman whom he very much wished to see, and to whom, also, I shall have much pleasure in re-introducing the reader.
The day was uncommonly cold, considering the time of the year. Colin's face, as he breasted the blast, strongly resembled a raw carrot; while behind him sat four little red-and-blue looking animals, muffled up into no shape, and each “tiled” with an immense brimmed hat, which gave them altogether much the appearance of a basket of young flap-mushrooms.