“Oh, it’s you again, is it?” he said. “Kindly wait a moment until I get to you.”
As he spoke, he picked up a heavy and long ruler and descended from his stool. The boy waited in obedience to his request. The man took him by the ear and led him out into the passage, and proceeded to beat him with the ruler brutally about the head and shoulders.
“Do you think we will be plagued out of our lives by the likes of you?” he said, as he flung the limp and breathless form into the street for the second time. “You come here again, and I’ll have you locked up.”
Bruised, breathless and bleeding, the boy dragged himself away from the vicinity of No. 12, Webster’s Buildings in the City. Yet it was only in the flesh he was conquered; his spirit was still fortified with resolve. What were his haps in comparison with those of Hector at the Defence of Troy? Therefore after leaning against the wall of an insurance office for a little time in order to recover some of the physical power which had been so rudely knocked out of him, he determined to renew his attempts to gain pieces of silver. It might be that others besides the occupants of No. 12, Webster’s Buildings in the City were in need of a bright boy. Indeed, it was most likely; at least there appeared to be a large number of bright boys who were desirous of gaining pieces of silver.
Accordingly he resolved to use his powers of observation, and to select for himself a shop or an office which he deemed likely to stand in need of the services of a bright boy. Yet his first choice was not fortunate. After mustering every consideration in its favour, he entered a small and unassuming shop in Gracechurch Street.
As he entered with a curious sensation in his heart, he was met by a young woman with a supercilious lift to her chin and an abundance of dark hair, who looked him up and down as though he had no right to be there.
“What do you want?” she said in a sharp tone, and hurting him with her suspicious eyes.
“M-may it p-please you, m-madam,” he stammered, “I d-desire to offer myself in the capacity of a bright boy.”
“Oh, d-do y-you?” said the young woman. “Go home and wash your neck and then go and drown yourself.”
The boy slunk out into the street as though she had hit him a blow in the face.