“You didn’t know me again,” said Max, smiling in an ingratiating manner.
“Oh, don’t I just know you again, sir!” cried the boy. “You’re master’s brother, as used to come to the old place.”
“Quite right, my man, quite right; I am your master’s brother.”
“You didn’t know me again, sir?”
“No, my man, no,” said Max, putting up his glass and gazing at the boy with great interest; “you have improved so wonderfully. Ah! you look better than you did in those old days.”
“I should think I did, sir. Things is altered now. Master never talks about the shoemaking; he always calls it taboo.”
“Does he really?”
“Yes, sir, and everything’s different. Never feel hollow now—nothing never gnaws inside; and master says it’s all because my ’gestion’s better. He knows.”
“Stop a moment, my man,” said Max insinuatingly; “here’s a shilling.”
“Thankye, sir: shall I go now?”