“Oh, I'm well enough, but I'm not over-happy,” answered the boy, who, from little association with children and much with older people, had formed rather a mature way of speaking.
“What makes you feel like that?” asked Starlight.
“Oh, lots of things. There's no one who cares for me 'cept to make money out of me. That's kind of hard on a fellow.
“Don't you get some of the money yourself?”
“Not a penny. You see, I'm 'prenticed to the manager till I'm eighteen.”
“Who apprenticed you?” said Starlight, taking care to speak correctly.
“The manager, I suppose; but I did not know anybody had to 'prentice you. I thought you just 'prenticed yourself by promising to work for your board.”
“Not a bit of it. You oughtn't to have made such a promise. If you were worth anything to the manager you were worth part of the money you earned. Besides, I don't think anybody can apprentice a boy except his parents or his guardian, or some one who has charge of him.”
“Well, nobody's had charge of me this long while.”
“Is that big man with the great black moustache the manager?” asked Starlight.