“You work for Mr. Knight, don’t you?”
“No, sir.”
“Then what in the world are you here for if the quarrel is none of yours?”
“I seed the men coming, and as there was a row on I thought I’d come too.”
“Ah! there are plenty of lads about like you, I suppose? I have heard of you. Such as you do most of the mischief that is done, don’t you?”
“That’s about it, sir,” said the lad, grinning as if he thought it was a very fine thing, though that expression changed to one of shame when Arthur looked at him steadily.
“There is not much gain to be got out of such a life as that, you know,” said Arthur, gravely. “It is not anything to be proud of really, is it? I think it is a pity for a strong, likely lad such as you are to take up with that sort of thing. I wouldn’t if I were you. I call it a waste of good power, because you are sharp enough to make your way in the world if you will only set about it in the right fashion.”
“I ain’t got nobody to show me the way, nor I ain’t got nobody to help me.”
“Oh, yes, you have! You’ve got me, and I shall be very glad to help you. I will find some work for you, and if you don’t know how to do it, you shall be taught, and put in the way of earning an honest living. Will you do your best?”
The lad hesitated. He really felt that he was giving up a great deal. The prospect which Arthur held out was not very alluring. He and his companions considered that “earning an honest living” was far too slow a thing for them. But somewhere under his ragged waistcoat the lad had a heart, and Arthur had found his way to it, as to so many more of the same kind.