“Come, Slidder, don’t be greedy.”
“Vell, sir, if you got as many kicks as I do, and as few ha’pence, p’r’aps you’d be greedy too.”
“Perhaps I should, my boy,” said I, in a gentle tone. “But come, I will give you an extra sixpence if we get along well. Let’s have the rest of your story; I won’t interrupt again.”
“It ain’t my story, it’s Punch’s story,” returned the waif, as he stooped to pat the gratified doggie. “Vell, w’en I com’d ’ome it was lateish and I was tired, besides bein’ ’ungry; so I goes right off to my water-butt, intendin’ to go to bed as usual, but no sooner did I put my head in, than out came a most awful growl. The butt lay on its side, and I backed out double quick just in time, for a most ’orrible-lookin’ terrier dog rushed at me. Bein’ used to dogs, I wasn’t took by surprise, but fetched it a clip with one o’ my feet in its ribs that sent it staggerin’ to the palin’ o’ the yard. It found a hole, bolted through, scurried up the lane yellin’, and I never saw’d it more! This was Punch’s mother. On goin’ into the butt afterwards I found three dead pups and one alive, so I pitched the dead ones away an’ shoved the live one into the breast of my coat, where he slep’ till mornin’. At first I ’ad a mind to drown the pup, but it looked so comfortable an’ playful, an’ was such a queer critter, that I called him Punch, an’ became a father to ’im. I got him bones an’ other bits o’ grub, an’ kep’ ’im in the water-butt for three veeks. Then he began to make a noise v’en I left him; so, bein’ sure the bobbies would rout ’im out at last, I took ’im an’ sold ’im to the first pleasant lady that seemed to fancy ’im.”
“Well, Slidder,” said I, as we turned down into the mean-looking alley where Mrs Willis, my little old woman, dwelt, “I am greatly interested in what you have told me about my little dog, and I am interested still more in what you have told me about yourself. Now, I want you to do me a favour. I wish you to go with me to visit an old woman, and, after that, to walk home with me—part of the way, at least.”
The boy, whose pinched, hunger-smitten face had an expression of almost supernatural intelligence on it, bestowed on me a quick, earnest glance.
“No dodges? Honour bright? You ain’t a school-board buffer?” he asked.
“No dodges. Honour bright,” I replied, with a smile.
“Vell, then, heave ahead, an’ I’ll foller.”
We passed quickly down to the lower end of the alley, which seemed to lose itself in a wretched court that appeared as if it intended to slip into the river—an intention which, if carried out, would have vastly improved its sanitary condition. Here, in a somewhat dark corner of the court, I entered an open door, ascended a flight of stairs, and gained a second landing. At the farthest extremity of the passage I stopped at a door and knocked. Several of the other doors of the passage opened, and various heads were thrust out, while inquisitive eyes surveyed me and my companion. A short survey seemed to suffice, for the doors were soon shut, one after another, with a bang, but the door at which I knocked did not open.