“No, I’m not,” replied Charlie, as curtly as he could, for he had no desire to encourage the conversation of this objectionable person.
“Ain’t you? And what are you going to do, then, my young lamb?” And in the course of this brief sentence Mr Belsham succeeded in interjecting at least three oaths.
“I shan’t speak to you if you swear,” said Charlie; “it’s wrong to swear.”
“No! is it? Who says that?”
“My father says so,” blurted out Charlie, fully satisfied that no better reason could be demanded.
Belsham laughed, and turning to the four inside, said,—
“I say, young gentlemen, this young pippin tells me he’s got a father who says it’s wrong to swear. What do you think of that?”
“His father must be an amusing man,” replied Gus.
“Wait till we get on to the course,” said Margetson; “he’ll hear something to astonish him there, young prig!”
“I’m not going to the races!” cried my master, starting from his seat, and now fully alive to the fraud of which he had been made the victim. “How could you do this, Tom Drift! Let me down, will you!” and he struggled so desperately with Belsham that that gentleman was obliged to let go the reins in order to hold him.