XVIII
In the process of taking Mr. William Jordan, Junior, back to his governess, Mr. James Dodson, in his capacity of an accomplished man of the world of many years’ standing, delivered himself at large upon certain first principles, which he considered to be indispensable to all who sought to graduate in the severe school of worldly experience.
“I’ll tell you what it is, my son,” he said, taking the bewildered boy by the arm, for an additional tankard of “half-and-half with plenty of top” had provoked in Mr. Dodson an unwonted expansion, “I’ll tell you what it is, my son, there is something wrong with you.”
The boy did not reply to this indictment. He felt that there was.
“There’s something missing,” said Mr. Dodson impressively.
The silence of William Jordan, Junior, continued to corroborate Mr. Dodson.
“As I have already said, my son,” said Mr. Dodson, “you are just about fivepence halfpenny to the shilling, not more, not a farthing more. I cast no aspersions, mind, upon the maiden aunt who undertook your up-bringing. I don’t doubt that she is a good and worthy, and nice-minded old woman, but I blame her for one thing, my son, for one thing I am forced to blame her.”
Who the old woman was that Mr. Dodson was forced to blame and what he blamed her for, William Jordan, Junior, had not the courage to inquire.
“She might at least,” Mr. Dodson’s tone was one of judicial sadness, “have seen that you had all your buttons on when she turned you out into the world.”
“M-my b-buttons, s-sir!” stammered William Jordan, Junior, fingering his jacket nervously.