To carry out his desires in the presence of those who were responsible for him was, of course, out of the question; instead, he watched his opportunity, and slipped out of the house one day unobserved.
The town house of Sir Leopold Kershaw was in a very fine and extremely aristocratic square; but quite near to it—crouching and hiding under the wing of its grandeur—was a terrible nest of slums. And into this, by some natural instinct, drifted Master Teddy Kershaw.
With that newly-kindled love of humanity fairly bursting out of him he was prepared to seize the first likely wastrel by the hand and give instant effect to his father's many speeches; and he had not far to seek.
Just on the borderland, where the genteel streets began to grow more shabby and where untidy women and children seemed to be overflowing out of every house, stood a costermonger's barrow, the proprietor of which was leaning, in a dejected attitude, against it. It was the poorest barrow imaginable, with one of its shafts mended with string, and with a few sorry-looking vegetables, which never by any chance could have grown in any imaginable garden, displayed upon it.
The costermonger himself had evidently come to the conclusion that it was quite useless to attempt to impose his wares, at any price, even in that most poverty-stricken market; despair sat heavily upon him, and lurked even in the empty bowl of his cold pipe. Yet he was comparatively a young man, and not ill-looking; and the woman who leaned near him, with her elbows on the barrow and her chin propped in her hands, had once, and not so long ago, been quite pretty, despite the gaudy hat which drooped disconsolately over her eyes.
Here, surely, was a forlorn brother indeed! Teddy hesitated for but an instant, and then advanced towards the man. He felt that it would be wiser not to shake hands with him at once, as that smacked too much of familiarity; so he merely bowed and put a casual question—suggested by the barrow—as to the state of trade.
"Can't you sell anything?" he asked.
The costermonger looked Teddy up and down in astonishment, and then looked round at the woman and jerked his head sideways in a very curious fashion; drew the back of his hand slowly and elaborately across his mouth, and looked at Teddy again.
"No, yer 'Ighness, I can't," he replied, slowly and emphatically. Turning to the woman, with another jerk of the head, he muttered something about a "rum start."
"But wouldn't people buy the things if you shouted?" asked the boy. "Other people shout what they have to sell." Which was evident by the babel of noise about them.