“Aren’t you afraid of her hurting you?”
“’Urting me!” cried the boy, in tones of the utmost contempt, as if he had not been half-murdered once a week for the last eight years. “No fear! Ain’t you funny? But she ain’t a-going to collar this ’ere choker; not if I knows it!” said he, taking off his new article of decoration with a flourish and holding it up.
The well-worn and used-up necktie did not certainly look worth the battle that had been waged over it.
“Why are you so particular about this?” I asked, half guessing beforehand what the reply would be.
“Pertikler!” he cried, “why, that there bloke give me this ’ere!”
Nothing evidently could have been more conclusive to Billy’s mind. I felt almost jealous to find how much truer Jack’s new friend was than his old one.
“Was he here long this evening?” I asked, presently.
“Yaas; he was jawing nigh on half a’ hour, he was, while I gi’en him a shine. But, bless you, them boots of his is pretty nigh ’andy wore out, and I tell him so. ‘Never mind, Billy,’ says he; ‘I’ll be getting a new pair soon when I’ve got the money saved,’ says he. ‘I mean to get a good strong pair,’ says he, ‘double-soled and plates on the ’eels, my boy,’ he says, ‘and you shall polish them up every night for me.’ ‘That I will,’ says I. Bless you, governor, that there bloke’ll ’ave the shiniest pair of boots in town.”
It was a sight to see the little grimy face glow as he expatiated on the grateful theme.
“I suppose he didn’t—did he say anything about me?” I asked, hesitatingly.