“Master George, if you take me for a fool,” replied Dan, “you are mistaken: it is you want to be revenged on young Shirley, not I: the poor lad never offended me.”
“Then give me back my money,” said George.
“Indeed but I shall not,” replied Dan, chinking it as he spoke. “But if you are so cowardly as to be afraid of a little frolic, I wish you may be insulted every day of your life.”
“Say no more, Simpson; I will go,” said George; “but if we should be detected!—I have heard Papa say, that breaking young trees was transportation.”
“Ay, if they catch us,” returned the worthless groom. “Leave me alone for taking care of my neck: why, George, if you tremble at a trifle like this, you will never make a fine gentleman.”
This last speech overcame young Hope’s remaining scruples; the idea of not being thought a fine fellow extinguished the remaining spark of virtue in his bosom: and with affected gaiety he said—
“Simpson, you are a clever fellow, but how shall we be able to steal unobserved out of the house?”
“Oh! that is the easiest part of the business,” said Dan, “particularly as you have an apartment to yourself. After the family are in bed, I will raise a ladder against your window; and, when I throw a pebble against the sash, you must dress yourself, and come down directly. I will provide tools for the business.”
Here their conference was broken off owing to William Hope, who came to call his brother to dinner, and the wicked servant and his weak young master parted.
It was not that Simpson was afraid of doing this cruel piece of mischief by himself, that he insisted on George Hope’s accompanying him, but he knew it would place the unfortunate youth so completely in his power, that he could from that moment fearlessly defraud him of his pocket-money, by basely threatening to inform Mr. Hope of his son’s depravity; and he was too good a judge of human nature to fear that such a boy as George would ever have resolution to own his transgression.