“I won’t stop a day in the place,” I said to myself in the heat of my indignation, for Mr Solomon seemed to be doubting me, and I felt as if I couldn’t bear to be suspected of being a thief.
My attention was taken from myself to the boy and Mr Solomon the next moment, for there was a scene.
“Now,” said Mr Solomon, “I want to lock up this house, young gentleman, so out you go.”
“You can come when I’ve done,” said the boy, poking at first one fruit and then another with the cane, as he strutted about. “I’m not going yet.”
He was in the act of touching a ripe nectarine when Mr Solomon looked as if he could bear it no longer, and he snatched the cane away.
“Here, you give me my cane,” cried the boy. “You be off out, sir.”
“Sha’n’t!”
“Will you go?”
“No. Don’t you push me!”
“Walk out then.”