Chapter Six.
“When one is another who is which?”
“Well, boy, what do you want? Have you anything to say to me?”
Mr Auberly turned sharp round on Willie, whose gaze had gone beyond the length of simple curiosity. In fact, he was awe-struck at the sight of such a very tall and very dignified man standing so grimly in the midst of such dreadful devastation.
“Please, sir, I was sent to you, sir, by—”
“Oh, you’re the boy, the son of—that is to say, you were sent to me by your mother,” said Mr Auberly with a frown.
“Well, sir,” replied Willie, hesitating, “I—I—was sent by—by—”
“Ah, I see,” interrupted Mr Auberly with a smile that was meant to be gracious, “you were sent by a fireman; you are not the—the—I mean you’re the other boy.”
Poor Willie, being of a powerfully risible nature, found it hard to contain himself on hearing his own words of the previous evening re-echoed thus unexpectedly. His face became red, and he took refuge in blowing his nose, during which process—having observed the smile on Mr Auberly’s face—he resolved to be “the other boy.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, looking up modestly, “I was sent by a fireman; I am the other boy.”