Mrs Packer, wholly at a loss to understand her youthful guest, but at the same time disposed to be indulgent to his little whims, said Tom would be at lessons now, and she didn’t think he would be able to come.
“Wouldn’t it do in the morning?”
“Oh no,” said Charlie, with the gravest face. “I must see him to-night, please, if you don’t mind.”
The housekeeper concluded that Charlie had some important message from the mother to her son, and therefore rang for a servant, whom she despatched with a message to Master Drift that some one wanted to see him.
In a very little time that hero made his appearance; and as he was the first Randlebury boy Charlie had set eyes on, he appeared for a moment a very awful and a very sublime personage in that little new boy’s eyes. But Charlie was too intent on his mission to allow himself to be quite overawed.
“Here’s a new boy, Master Drift, wants to speak to you.”
“What do you want, young un—eh?”
“Oh, it’s all right, Tom Drift; only I saw your mother, you know, in the train, and she said you were a nice boy, and she sent her love, and I told her I’d let you know the time whenever you wanted, because you ain’t got a watch, you know, and I have. I say, would you like to know the time now, Tom Drift?”
All this was rattled out with such eager volubility, that Tom Drift, hero as he was, was fairly taken aback, and looked quite sheepish, as the beaming boy proceeded to pull me out of his pocket.
“Well, it’s just—hullo!”