“Oh, the old cake-man, Louis,” said Reginald; “I must go and get rid of a few surplus pence.”
“Do you like to spend your money in cakes?” asked Louis; “I have plenty, Mrs. Colthrop took care of that.”
“In that case I'll save for next time,” said Reginald, “but let's go and see what's going on.”
Accordingly Reginald ran off in the cake-man's direction. Louis followed, and presently found himself standing in the outer circle of a group of his school-fellows, who formed a thick wall round a white-haired old man and a boy, both of whom carried a basket on each arm, filled with dainties always acceptable to a school-boy's palate.
Maister Dunn.
Were I inclined to moralize, I might here make a few remarks on waste of money, &c., but my business being merely to relate incidents at present, I shall only say that there they stood, the old man and his assistant, with the boys in constant motion and murmur around them.
Frank Digby and Hamilton were in the outer circle, the latter having walked from a direction opposite to that from which Frank and Reginald came, but whose dignity did not prevent a certain desire to purchase if he saw fit, and if not, to amuse himself with those who did so. He stood watching the old man with an imperturbable air of gravity, and, hanging on his arm in a state of listless apathy, stood Trevannion, another member of the first class.
Frank Digby took too active a share in most things in the establishment to remain a passive spectator of the actions of others, and began pushing right and left. “Get along, get away ye vagabonds!” he politely cried: “you little shrimps! what business have you to stop the way?—Alfred, you ignoramus! Alfred, why don't you move?”
“Because I'm buying something,” said the little boy addressed, looking up very quietly at the imperious intruder.