“Yes, I would.”
“Well, if you must know, I’m a-going to the racket school!”
“The what?” I exclaimed.
“Racket school.”
“Oh! ragged school, you mean. Where is it? I didn’t know you went. They ought to teach you better there than to steal, Billy,” I said.
“Oh!” replied the boy, with a touch of scorn in his voice, “that there bloke’s a-going to learn me, not you!”
“What! does Smith teach at the ragged school, then?”
“In course he do! Do you suppose I’d go else?”
And off he trotted, leaving me utterly bewildered.
Jack Smith teaching in a ragged school! Jack Smith wearing a pair of boots that he knew were stolen! What could I think?