“I didn’t want to fight, Miss; but what’s a chap to do?”
“Surely not fight when he is sent on an errand,” said Rich severely.
“I didn’t want to fight,” said the boy again: “but I was fighting, and Mr Hendon ketched me.”
“I’m afraid, Bob, I shall be obliged to speak to my father, and have you sent away.”
“No, no! don’t do that, Miss; please don’t. I will be so very useful, and I will do everythink ’Lisbeth tells me. Don’t send a feller away.”
“We cannot keep a boy who behaves so badly,” continued Rich, who was trying to hide being amused and pleased at the boy’s affectionate earnestness.
“Then I won’t fight no more,” said Bob. “But you don’t know what it is, Miss. You don’t know how the fellers tease yer. They’re allers at yer. Soon as yer goes down the street, some one shouts ‘Bottles!’ Jest because I takes out the physic. I should jest like to make some on ’em take it. I’d give ’em a dose.”
“But, Bob, you ought to be too sensible to take any notice about a rude boy calling you names.”
“So I am, Miss,” cried the boy, “ever so much. I never did nothing till they began on the doctor.”
“Began on the doctor?”