“He came back again, sir.”
“Yes: came back again as soon as he could get away, and at last, being a very foolish sort of old man, I let him stop, and he has been here ever since.”
“And never goes to school?”
“Never, Grant, I tried to send him, but I could only get him there by blows, and I gave that up. I don’t like beating boys.”
I felt a curious shiver run through me as he said this, and I saw him smile, but he made no allusion to me, and went on talking about Shock.
“Then I tried making a decent boy of him, giving him clothes, had a bed put for him in the attic, and his meals provided for him here in the kitchen.”
“And wasn’t he glad?” I said.
“Perhaps he was,” said Old Brownsmith, quietly, “but he didn’t show it, for I couldn’t get him to sleep in the bed, and he would not sit down to his meals in the kitchen; so at last I grew tired, and took to paying him wages, and made arrangements for one of the women who comes to work, to find him a lodging, and he goes there to sleep sometimes.”
I noticed that he said sometimes, in a peculiar manner, looking at me the while. Then he went on:
“I’ve tried several times since, Grant, my lad, but the young savage is apparently irreclaimable. Perhaps when he gets older something may be done.”