“Were you?” inquired the father.
“Of course I was, and you knew it. What a swell I shall be! And it will always be sure to remind me of home.”
While this talk was going on I had leisure to examine my new owner. Picture to yourselves a curly-haired, bright-eyed boy of thirteen with honest, open face, good features, and winning smile. He is big for his age, and strongly built. At present his form is arrayed in a brand-new suit of grey; his collar is new and his tie is new, his boots are new and his socks are new; everything is new about him, down to the very guard of his hat, and he himself is the newest and purest of all. Was ever such a radiant young hero turned loose into the world?
And now, over and above his other glories, he had me to crown all. The graceful curve of my chain on his waistcoat gave that garment quite a distinguished appearance, and the consciousness of a silver watch in his pocket made him hold his head even higher than usual.
“He is a beauty!” again he broke out, “exactly the kind I like most. I’ll take ever such a lot of care of him.” And so saying, he began to swing me at the end of the chain, till I suddenly came sharply into collision with the door of the cab.
“Hullo,” exclaimed my young master, “that won’t do. I’ll put him away now. It was good of you, father.”
With that we reached the railway station, and in the bustle that ensued I was for the time forgotten.
Charlie’s trunks were duly labelled for Randlebury, and then came the hardest moment of all, when father and son must part.
“I wonder if you’ll be altered, Charlie, when I see you again.”
“Not for the worse I hope, anyhow,” replied the boy, laughing.