“Oh, please sir, my mother says do—”
“Silence!” cried Gray—and he passed out into the street, leaving the little girl with a full impression that the doctor had gone mad.
Jacob Gray’s first glance was towards his persecutors, and he saw that the patience of all of them had been nearly tired out, with the exception of the baker’s boy, who sat upon the edge of his basket and told the story of a man being on the roofs of the houses to all comers.
“You wretch,” muttered Gray, “I should like to brain you.”
“Hilloa—here comes the doctor,” cried the boy, “why, you’ve got up wrong end first, old cove.”
“Take that,” said Gray, as he dealt the boy a box on the face that sent him sprawling backwards into his own basket, to the immense amusement of all the other boys there collected, who, not to be behindhand in asserting their right to the name of human beings, immediately made at the fallen hero, and commenced hauling and pummelling him to their heart’s content.
With a hasty step Gray left the scene of action, and struck at once into a long narrow lane which led him among the by-streets at the back of the Strand.
His first object now was to get a breakfast, and observing a little dirty shop where every imaginable abomination in the eating line was sold, he plunged into its dark recesses, and asked of a woman, whose very appearance was enough to turn any one’s stomach, if he could have some breakfast.
“That depends on what you want,” said the woman.
“Some meat,” said Gray; “I will pay you liberally if you will purchase for me some meat, and let me eat it here.”