“I know I’ve no business, Tom Drift; but I do so want to be friends, because—because I promised your mother, you know.”
“What do I care what you promised my mother? I don’t want you. Come, off you go, or I’ll show you the way.”
Charlie turned to go, yet still lingered. A desperate struggle was taking place, I could feel, within him, and then he stammered out, “I say, Tom Drift, if you’ll only be friends I’ll give you my watch.”
Poor boy! Who knows what that offer cost him? it was indeed the dearest bribe he had to give.
Tom laughed sneeringly. “Who wants your watch, young ass?—a miserable, second-hand, tin ticker; I’d be ashamed to be seen with it. Come, once more, get out of here or I’ll kick you out!”
Charlie obeyed, miserable and disappointed.
He could stand being spoken roughly to, he could bear his disappointment, but to hear his father’s precious gift spoken of as a “miserable, second-hand tin ticker,” was more than he could endure, and he made his way back to his room conscious of having lost more than he had gained by this thankless effort at reconciliation.
“What are you in the sulks about?” inquired Halliday that evening, as Charlie was putting away his lord and master’s jam in the cupboard.
“I don’t want to be sulky,” Charlie said, “but I wish I could make it up with Tom Drift.”
“With who?” exclaimed Joe, who, as we have before observed, was subject to occasional lapses of grammar.