Jenks was silent, and Flo after a pause continued—“I wants fur to be perlite to you, Jenks. I likes you, Jenks, and now I’m goin’ to tell you why.”
“Oh! my heyes,” said Jenks, “that’s an honour. Oh! my stars! can I abear so big an honour? ’Old me, Flo, I feels kind of top ’eavy. Now then, break it heasy, Flo.”
“I never know’d as yer trade was that of a thief, Jenks,” quietly continued the little girl. “I thought as it wor a real nice trade as me and Dick might larn, and we mustn’t larn that, not ef we was to starve. Dick and me must never be thiefs. But, Jenks, I’m not a blamin’ you—it ain’t wrong fur you, Jenks—you ’adn’t never a mother, as telled you to keep an honest boy.”
At these words Jenks started violently, the fun died out of his face, and he looked quite white and shaky.
“Why does you say that?” he asked rather savagely. “How does yer dare say as I ’av’n’t a mother? as honest a woman as hever walked.”
“I doesn’t say it, Jenks. I on’y ses that if you ’ad a mother as was alwis honest, and, no, not ef we was starvin’ would prig anythink, and that mother lay a dyin’, and she axed yer werry soft and lovin’ to keep honest, and never, no never to steal nothink, and you promised yer mother ’cause you loved ’er; would you be a thief then, Jenks?”
“Moonshine!” growled Jenks.
“No, but would you, Jenks?”
“How can I tell?” replied Jenks. “Look yere, Flo, leave off about mothers, do. Wot does I know of such? Say wot yer ’as to say, as I must be gone.”
“I wants you not to come back no more, dear Jenks, and never, never to speak to Dick no more.”