‘Well, so I am,’ said Emmeline, perplexed and a little offended.
‘Ladies don’t do no work,’ said the boy.
‘Oh yes, they do,’ said Emmeline earnestly. ‘Everybody that’s worth anything does work. Why, even the Prince of Wales has “I serve” for his motto. That’s one of the things I’ll have to teach you, Diamond Jubilee, that you can’t be a real gentleman unless you work for other people.’
‘My father were a gentleman more often than not,’ remarked Diamond Jubilee, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
It struck Emmeline that she must certainly buy him one or two pocket-handkerchiefs. To be sure, he needed an entire new outfit, for what he had on was only fit for a bonfire, but her present means would, alas! only run to absolute necessities, such as food and pocket-handkerchiefs.
‘Well, then, you must try to follow your father’s example,’ she said aloud. She did not know that to be ‘a gentleman’ in Diamond Jubilee’s sense meant to be out of work. ‘Think how it would have grieved him if he could have seen you yesterday afternoon trying to steal my purse! You must always be a good boy, for his sake.’
Now, as a matter of fact, the late Mr. Jones had frequently varied his periods of being a gentleman with times in prison, for he had combined a strong turn for petty crime with a distinct talent for being found out, so it was no wonder that his son stared at Emmeline in vacant surprise. He was never a boy who troubled himself much to understand puzzling things, however, so he passed on to a subject of more practical importance.
‘Aren’t you going to give me nothing more to eat?’ he demanded, with a return to his professional whine. ‘That ain’t much of a breakfast, that aren’t.’
‘Do you know, Diamond Jubilee, I’m afraid you’re rather greedy?’ said Emmeline. ‘You oughtn’t to want anything more after that glassful of good milk. I’m sure it’s more than what you’ve been used to having for breakfast.’
‘Well, that aren’t, then,’ said Diamond Jubilee sulkily. ‘I’m used to a meat breakfast, I am.’