“But will you listen to me, Bill?” I cried angrily.
“No, I won’t,” he said, throwing down the cane. “You’ve been up to your larks, you have, and I tell you what it is, I won’t have larks.”
“I haven’t,” I cried.
“You have, sir, so don’t deny it. What am I to say to my Mary when she comes up, if she finds you going wrong? I won’t have larks, so there’s an end of it, d’ye hear? There, you needn’t look sulky, and you won’t go and lodge somewhere else. You’ll stay here and I won’t have no larks. I know what it means; I’ve seen boys begin with stopping out o’ nights, and I know what sort o’ chickens they turn out. Stopping out late o’ nights an’ larks means going to the bad; and you ain’t going to the bad if I know it.”
“I couldn’t help it, Bill; I’ve been along with Mr Hallett.”
“Then I’ll punch Mr Hallett’s head,” he cried in a rage, as he stamped up and down the room, till some one rapped at the ceiling of the floor below. “No, I won’t. I’ll pay him a visit in full uniform with my bracelet on, that’s what I’ll do with him.”
“Don’t be so foolish, Bill,” I cried, as in imagination I saw Mr Revitts stalking along amongst the frames at the office, as if about to take Mr Hallett into custody.
“Foolish?” he cried. “And look here, once for all, don’t you Bill me. As for that Hallett, he’s a bad ’un, that’s what he is, and I’ll let him know—carrying on larks with a youngster like you.”
“Mr Hallett’s a gentleman,” I said indignantly.
“Oh, is he?” said Revitts excitedly; “then I’d rather be a pore police-constable. Why, I never so much as took you inside a public to have half-a-pint o’ beer, I was so particular over your morals; and your precious gentleman takes you to dozens, and keeps you out till two forty-five. Why, you make the whole room smell o’ beer.”