“I had to go away, and he came with me,” answered Clare.
“You’d better get rid of him. He’ll get you into trouble.”
“I can’t get rid of him,” replied Clare. “But I shall teach him not to take what isn’t his. He don’t know better now. He’s been ill-used all his life.”
“You don’t seem over well used yourself,” said the man.
He saw that Clare’s clothes had been made for a boy in good circumstances, though they had been long worn, and were much begrimed. His face, his tone, his speech convinced him that they had been made for him, and that he had had a gentle breeding.
“Look you here, young master,” he continued; “you have no right to be in company with that boy. He’ll bring you to grief as sure as I tell you.”
“I shall be able to bear it,” answered Clare with a sigh.
“He’ll be the loss of your character to you.”
“I ain’t got a character to lose,” replied Clare. “I thought I had; but when nobody will believe me, where’s my character then?”
“Now you’re wrong there,” returned the man. “I’m not much, I know; but I believe every word you say, and should be very sorry to find myself mistaken.”