“Certainly the best thing I have ever done, Miss Tallant,” he said, with that wry smile.
“What will you do with him?” she asked again. “You must not be thinking that I mean you to adopt him as your own, or anything of that nature! He must be brought up to a respectable trade, only I do not know what would be the best for him!”
“Perhaps,” suggested Mr. Beaumaris, “he has views of his own on the subject. What, Jemmy, would you chose to do?”
“Yes, what would you like to do when you are a man?” said Arabella, turning to kneel beside Jemmy’s chair, and speaking in a coaxing tone. “Tell me!”
Jemmy, who had been following all this with an intent look in his face, had no very clear idea of what it was about, but his quick, cockney mind had grasped that none of these swells, not even the stout, cross one, intended any harm to him. The scared expression in his eyes had given place to one of considerable acuteness. He answered his protectress without hesitation. “Give ole Grimsby a leveller!” he said.
“Yes, my dear, and so you shall, and I hope you will do the same by everyone like him!” said Arabella warmly. “But how would you choose to earn your living?”
Mr. Beaumaris’s lips twitched appreciatively. So the little Tallant had brothers, had she?
Lady Bridlington was looking bewildered, and her son disgusted. Lord Fleetwood, accepting Arabella’s unconsciously betrayed knowledge of boxing-cant without question, looked Jemmy over critically, and gave it as his opinion that the boy was not the right build for a bruiser.
“Of course not!” said Arabella. “Think, Jemmy! What could you do, do you suppose?”
The urchin reflected, while the company awaited his pleasure. “Sweep a crossing,” he pronounced at last. “I could ’old the genlemen’s ’orses, then.”