Mr. Wesden never accounted for leaving his shop-door open without warning his wife—for running at his utmost speed after the girl.
At the corner of Great Suffolk Street he overtook her.
"Where are you going?—what are you running for?" he asked, indignantly.
Mattie started, looked at him, recognized him.
"Nothin—partic'ler—is anythink the matter?"
"How—how—should you—like—to be—a news boy?" he panted.
No circumlocution in Mr. Wesden—straight to the point as an arrow.
"Yours!—you wouldn't trust me—you never gives trust."
"I've—I've thought of trying you."
"You?" she said again.