“But there will be a great many more, my boy,” said Uncle Jack solemnly; “and what would our feelings be if some serious accident were to happen to you?”
“Just the same, Uncle Jack,” I cried, “as mine would be, and my father’s and mother’s, if some accident were to happen to you.”
Uncle Jack wrinkled up his broad forehead, stared hard at me, and then, in a half-angry, half amused way, he went to the table, took up an imaginary piece of soap and began to rub it in his palms.
“I wash my hands of this fellow, boys,” he said. “Dick, you are the oldest; take him in hand, dress him down, give him sixpence to buy hardbake and lollipops, and send him about his business.”
“Make it half-a-crown, uncle,” I cried, with my cheeks burning with anger; “and then you might buy me a toy-horse too—one with red wafers all over it, and a rabbit-skin tail.”
“My dear Cob,” said Uncle Jack, “why will you be so wilfully blind to what is good for you?”
My cheeks grew hotter, and if I had been alone I should have burst into a passion of tears, but I could not do such a thing then, when I wanted to prove to these three that I was fit to be trusted and too old to be sent home.
“We do not come to this conclusion without having carefully thought it out, boy,” cried Uncle Bob.
“Very well, then!” I cried, almost beside myself with passion.
“Confess now,” said Uncle Bob; “haven’t you often felt very much alarmed at having to keep watch of a night in that lonely factory?”