“There you go again,” cried Pen. “What is it you want? What are you trying to get? You are hurting yourself again.”
“Oh, I was only trying to get at that there sixpence,” said the poor fellow, with a dismal look in his face. “I’m half-afraid it’s lost.—No, it ain’t! I just touched it then.”
“Then don’t touch it any more.”
“But I want it.”
“No, you don’t, not till that girl comes; and you had better keep it till we say good-bye.”
“Think so?” said Punch.
Pen nodded.
“You think she will come again, then?”
“She is sure to.”
“Ah,” said Punch, rather drowsily now, “I say, how nice it feels for any one to be kind to you when you are bad.”