“I see that you are ‘a chip of the old block,’” smiled Alexander.
“Met go too! Met go too!” screamed the young tyrant, making his feet fly with such velocity that they looked like a drove of feet.
Meanwhile, Meg, with her apron to her eyes, was sobbing violently. A scene was certainly impending.
“I think, sir, if I were you I would take the girl along. I think well of her. I believe her account of herself to be true. And I believe it would be a good work to take her from this haunt of sin and misery—alas! I beg your pardon, I had forgotten myself, I have no right to preach,” said the poor penitent, bowing his head.
“I will take her at your word, Everage; but, good Heaven, look down at her feet!”
“Well, they are not cloven!” said the poor gentleman, with a sad attempt at a pleasantry. “Give her a sovereign sir, and let her run out and fit herself with a bonnet, and shawl, and a pair of shoes and stockings. I’ll warrant she’ll do it all in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll do it in less time, sir; indeed I will, if you’ll only let me go with little Lenny!”
“Very well; be quick,” said Alexander, handing over a sovereign.
“Oh, please, sir, give it to me in smaller change. If the shopkeeper was to see the likes of me with a whole suvring at a time, they would stop it, and send for the police,” said Meg.
“That is quite likely,” thought Alick, as he replaced the offered coin in his purse, and then gave her a half sovereign in gold, and a half in silver change.