“There are three parcels of books for you to take,” said my mother; “but you’ve plenty of time, so take down the tea-things, and get your tea in the kitchen before you go.”
“You haven’t got a shilling, Bella, about you? I want some ’baccy,” said Ben, in his quiet way.
“Yes, here’s a shilling, Ben; but don’t drink too much beer,” replied my mother.
“Deary me, what can have become of my needle?” exclaimed my grandmother, turning round.
“Here it is, ma’am,” said Ben, who perceived it sticking in her skirt. “That’s Percival’s work, I’ll answer for it.”
My granny received the needle from Ben, and then turned to me: “You good-for-nothing boy; so you put the needle there, did you? pretending to look for it all the while; you shall go to school, sir, that you shall.”
“You said a needle, granny; I was looking for a needle: you didn’t say your knitting-pin; I could have told you where that was.”
“Yes, yes, those who hide can find; to school you go, or I’ll not stay in the house.”
Ben took the tea-tray out of the room. He had been well drilled in and out of barracks.
“I’ll go down in the kitchen to father,” cried I, for I was tired of sitting still.