“That’s about it,” he said, as he fastened off a rope. “That’ll do. We sha’n’t want no more for this lot. Now don’t you two leave the cart. I’m going up to Mr Blackton, our salesman, you know, just to see if he’s anything to say, and then we’ll go and have our braxfass. Don’t you chaps leave the cart.”
“I sha’n’t go,” I said, and I glanced at Shock, who climbed up to the top of the baskets, and lay down flat on his face, so as to be away from me as it seemed, but I could see him watching me out of one eye from time to time.
“I wonder whether he will ever be different,” I thought to myself, as I watched the selling of a huge load of beautifully white bunches of turnips, as regular and clean as could be, when all at once I felt a blow in my back, and looking sharply round, there were several of the ragged boys who haunted the market grinning at me.
There was no handy place for me to post myself again so as to stop the throwing, and I had to content myself with looking at them angrily; but that did no good, for they separated, getting behind baskets and stacks of baskets, like so many sharpshooters, and from thence laid siege to me, firing shots with bits of market refuse, and anything they could find.
I generally managed to dodge the missiles, but the boys were clever enough to hit me several times, and with my blood boiling, and fingers tingling to pull their ears or punch their dirty heads, I had to stand fast and bear it all.
Barelegged, barefooted, and as active as cats, I felt sure that if I chased one he would dodge in and out and escape me, and as to throwing back at them, I was not going to stoop to do that.
“Dirty young vagabonds!” I said to myself, and I looked at them contemptuously with as much effect as if I had directed my severe looks at a market basket; and then I went and leaned against the end of the cart, determined to take no notice of them, and wishing that Ike would come back.
The young rascals only grew more impudent though, and came nearer, two in particular, and one of them, quite a little fellow with a big head and two small dark shiny eyes, over which his shock head of hair kept falling, ran right in, making charges at me, and striking at me with a muddy little fist, while his companion made pokes with a stick.
This was getting beyond bearing, for I was not a wild beast in a cage unable to get away; but still I determined not to be led into any disgraceful struggle with the dirty little blackguards.
I was not afraid of them, for I was too angry for that, and nothing would have given me greater satisfaction than to have come to blows. But that would not do, I knew.