“Sale’s on Toosday week,” said that gentleman as I looked at him inquiringly. “What’s going to be done o’ you?”
“Done with me?” I said.
“Yes; where are you going to be?”
“I’m going to stop here,” I said.
“That can’t be, anyhow, young un. Haven’t you got any friends?”
“Yes,” I said; “there’s Dick Wilmot, but he’s at school.”
“I say, young un, what a precious innocent you are! Haven’t you never been away at school?”
“No, sir.”
“Where have you been, then?”
“Here at home with papa and mamma.”