“Billy Buttons, will you earn a quarter by showing me the way to where Captain Beck lives? that is, if you know it.”
“Oh, I knows it all right, but I can’t show it.”
“Can’t? Why not? Is it too far?”
Billy thought he had never heard anybody ask so many questions in so short a time and was on the point of saying so, impertinently, yet found it not worth while. Instead, he remarked, “I ain’t sayin’ if it’s fur er near, but I guess I better be goin’ down to th’ office now an’ see if they’s a extry out. Might be a fire, er murder, er somethin’ doin’.”
With that courtesy which even the gamins of the streets unconsciously acquire from their betters, Billy pulled off his cap again and moved away. But he was not to escape so easily. Miss Laura’s hand clasped his soiled sleeve and forth came another question, “Billy, is that little girl your sister?”
“Hey? No such luck fer Buttons. She ain’t nobody’s sister, she ain’t. She just belongs to the hull Lane, Glory does. Huh! Take-a-Stitch my sister? Wished she was. She’s only cap’n— Shucks!” Having so nearly betrayed himself, Billy broke from the restraining hand and disappeared.
Miss Bonnicastle sighed and leaned back upon her cushions, feeling that something evil must have befallen her faithful footman to keep him so long away, and almost deciding to give up this apparently hopeless quest. Then she discovered that Nick had drawn near. Possibly, he would act as her guide, even if his mate had refused. She again held up the quarter and beckoned the lad.
He responded promptly, his eyes glittering with greed as they fixed upon the coin–not to be removed from it till it was in his own possession, no matter how many questions were asked. These began at once, in a crisp, imperative tone.
“Little boy, tell me your name.”
“Nick, the parson.”