“I’ll put him in the carriage for you,” said Bampfylde, hurriedly, “for here’s somebody coming. And don’t you let any one know that you were speaking to me, or ever saw me before. And God bless you, my little gentleman!” said the vagrant, suddenly disappearing among the crowd.
While Nello stood staring after him, Randolph came up, and tapped him sharply on the shoulder.
“What are you staring at? Have you seen any one you know?”
It was Nello’s first lesson in deceiving.
“I—I was looking at a man—with wild beasts,” he said.
“With wild beasts!—in the station?—here?”
“Yes, white rabbits and pigeons—and things; at least,” said Nello to himself, “he once had a white rabbit, if he hasn’t got one now.”
“Rabbits!” said Randolph. “Come along, here is our train. It is late; and before I have got you settled, and got back here again, and am able to think of myself, it will be midnight, I believe. You children don’t know what a trouble you are. I shall have lost my day looking after you. I should have been at home now but for you; and little gratitude I am likely to get, when all is done.”
This moved Nello’s spirit, for of all things in the world there is nothing that so excites opposition among great and little, as a claim upon our gratitude. Anything and everything else the mind may concede, but even a child kicks against this demand. Nello’s feelings towards his uncle were not unkind; but, little as he was, instinct woke in him an immediate resistance.
“It was not me that did it,” he said; “it was you. I should have stayed at home, and when the old gentleman is better he would have come out and played with me. And Mary would have let me stay. I like home,” said Nello, “and perhaps I shall not like school; but if I don’t like it,” he added, brightening and forgetting the secret he had been so sworn to keep, “I know how to get away.”