“Come with me, my little fellow,” said McBain to the nigger boy; and he took him kindly by the hand. Meanwhile a woman who had been standing by placed a curious-looking bundle in the lad’s hand, and bade him be a good boy, and keep out of Jock the Wraggler’s way next time.
“I’ll see you a little way home, Jim,” continued McBain, when they were clear of the crowd. “Jim is what they call you, isn’t it?”
“Jim,” said the blackamoor, “is what dey are good enough to call me. But, sah, Jim has no home.”
“And where do you sleep at night, Jim?”
“Anywhere, sah. Jim ain’t pertikler; some time it is a sugar barrel, an oder time a door-step.”
A low, sneering laugh was at this moment heard from the mysterious bundle Jim carried. McBain started.
“Don’t be afeared, sah,” said Jim; “it’s only de cockatoo, sah!”
“Have you any money, Jim?” asked McBain.
“Only de cockatoo, sah,” replied Jim; “but la!” he added, “I’se a puffuk gemlam (gentleman), sah—I’se got a heart as high as de steeple, sah!”
“Well, Jim,” said McBain, laughing, “would you like to sail in a big ship with me, and—and—black my boots?”