Chapter Twenty Four.
How I found that Hope deferred makes the Heart sick.
The reader may picture my horror and astonishment on discovering Billy’s secret. And the strangest part of it was that the graceless youth appeared to be utterly unconscious that he had done anything wrong. On the contrary, his jubilant face and triumphant voice showed plainly that he considered he had done a fine—a splendid thing.
I endeavoured to reason with him; he flared up as if I were trying to defraud Jack Smith of his new boots. I warned him of the punishment that would follow if he were caught. He gloried in the risk he ran. I told him it was wicked to steal—even for other persons. He retorted, “It wasn’t no concern of mine.”
Altogether it seemed hopeless to disenchant him with his exploit, and I therefore left him, wholly at a loss to make out this strange puzzle of a boy.
I was still more perplexed when, next morning, Jack Smith appeared at the office wearing the identical new pair of boots which had been the cause of all my horror!
I waited impatiently for the hours to pass, when I should be at liberty to pay my usual visit to Billy.
He was sitting there grimly, unlike his usual manner, evidently expecting me.
“Well,” said I, “what have you done with those boots?”
“’Tain’t no concern of yourn!”