“No, master.”
“Would you rather have this boy?”
“Would I rather? Just hark at him!”
Ike looked round at me as if this was an excellent joke, but Old Brownsmith took it as being perfectly serious, and gave Ike a series of instructions about taking care of me.
“Of course you will not go to a public-house on the road.”
“’Tain’t likely,” growled Ike, “’less he gets leading me astray and takes me there.”
“There’s a coffee-shop in Great Russell Street where you can get your breakfasts.”
“Lookye here, master,” growled Ike in an ill-humoured voice, “ain’t I been to market afore?”
“I shall leave him in your charge, Ike, and expect you to take care of him.”
“Oh, all right, master!” said Ike, and then the old gentleman gave me a nod and walked away.